What You Wish For
by two-roads-and-a-penny
Summary: The rain's pouring down my face. I feel it. Running down my cheeks, dripping from my chin onto Leo's pale skin. Has to be the rain. Has to. He can't be...
1. What You Wish For

Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it, and happy Thursday to those who don't.

This piece has absolutely nothing to do with the holiday. I was in a mood, I needed to write something angsty, and insomnia kindly provided the time to do so.

This is not festive in any way. You have been warned.

* * *

It's in his posture, the way his shoulders stand so perfectly squared, not tensed but not relaxed. The way his back is always straight and tall, no hunch or droop in sight. The way his smile almost mocks everything around it with it's extreme confidence. The way his voice always carries an air of superiority, even when he's complimenting. Especially when he's complimenting.

But mostly his eyes.

Those dark blue eyes that look down on the rest of the world as unworthy. Lacking in skill and strength and strategy and everything he does with such ease.

Perfection.

That's what he is. Thinks he is. Tries way too hard to be.

Looking at everyone as though they're beneath him.

Looking at us.

Looking at me.

Some days I can take it. Some days I can ignore it and throw my fist through something solid and hear the crack that drowns out his disapproval and forget he's watching. Forget he's judging.

And some days I can't. Some days throwing my fist through something would only help if it was his skull. Anything to close those self-righteous eyes and shut that sanctimonious mouth.

Some days I hate him. Truly hate him.

Some days.

Today.

"Raph!"

I punched the last of the goons out, throwing him on top of the pile, enjoying the site of all five of 'em groaning in unconsciousness. Didn't even break a sweat. 'Course Leo had to show up and ruin the moment.

"Raph, what are you doing?"

"Couple of scrawny ones got away. Didn't want them missing out on the fun." Not that I owe him an explanation.

"I told you not to go after them, we were supposed to stay and check the warehouse."

I see him glance disapprovingly at the puddle of KO'd thugs down the alley. He has that look like he's about to jump down my throat with a lecture of some sort. I'm already rolling my eyes.

"Don't get your shell in a bunch, I was gonna head back once they were taken care of."

"You shouldn't have left. The Dragons aren't going to let us have their new weapons shipment without a fight. They're probably already sending reinforcements. We need to get back and help Don and Mikey."

Like I didn't know all that already. I swear he treats me like an idiot on purpose sometimes, just to piss me off. "I said I was gonna head back. If you're so worried about it, why'd you leave those two to deal with it alone?"

"Because you took off! And I didn't want you out here fighting alone."

"I don't need a babysitter, Leo! I can handle myself!" My hands clench into fists as I see him hold back a scoff. The arrogant jerk actually thought I couldn't take care of a few Purple Dragons on my own? Of course he didn't. Only Leo can take care of himself. Only the great and powerful Leonardo knows how to fell his enemies without the aid of his brothers. God forbid his siblings actually try to do something on their own!

"I told you not to go after them, Raph. It wasn't a suggestion."

I freeze, my back to my brother as my hands curl even tighter. I can feel my blood boiling through my skin. Did he just— "Oh, I see what this is about. The Great Fearless Leader gave an order and the insignificant subordinate didn't obey."

As soon as I turn, I see his eyes roll at my comment. It's a testament to my self control that I don't lay him out right here and now. He's pissed that I didn't obey his every whim, and then he has the gall to act like I'm the one being a pain in the shell.

For a minute, he just stands there, staring me down like he's deciding how patronizing to be in his reply. I can see the anger building behind his mask and I so badly want to see him let it loose so I have an excuse to pound on him. Even just a little.

"We're going back. Now."

"Was that a suggestion?"

He stops just before he turns away and I know I'm pushing my luck. But I can't help it. His eyes are still staring at me like I'm the biggest idiot in the world for thinking for myself instead of listening to his oh-so-wise orders, and it pisses me off more than anything in the world.

"No. It wasn't."

"Screw you, Leo!" I hate him. "I'm not some lacky you can order around with the flick of a wrist!"

I hate his smug face.

"I never said you were a lacky."

His condescending eyes.

"Yet you get pissed every time I don't ask 'how high' whenever you tell me to jump!"

"I'm the leader, Raph. It's my job to give the orders!"

I hate him.

"And don't you just _love_ pointing that out every chance you get."

"We don't have time for this."

"No, of course not! There's only ever time to berate your brothers, not explain your actions."

"I don't have to explain myself to you!"

He blinks, like he was surprised the words came out of his mouth. But we both know he means them. And I've never wanted to punch my brother's teeth out so bad. "So that's how it is, huh? The Great Leonardo knows all and doesn't need to waste time explaining himself to the rest of us mere mortals."

"That's not what I—"

"That's exactly what you meant!" I'm fuming now. Inching closer to his face so he has to look at me, has to look me in the eye while he spouts his excuses. "That's what you're always about, isn't it? Proving that you're better than everybody else, that you're smarter, stronger, and faster than everyone! And God forbid someone actually tries to measure up, you gotta knock 'em down a peg to make yourself feel better!"

He's quiet. I can see I've hit a nerve; his eyes have that look like they're tryin' really hard not to show emotion. But I don't give a damn. I'll step on as many nerves as I have to to make him realize that he's not God and he doesn't control us.

He doesn't control me.

"You think you don't measure up?"

It came so far outta left field, the words take a good minute to sink in. I can feel my blood pumping faster as my defences go up. "Where the hell did that come from!?"

"You said 'God forbid someone actually tries to measure up', I assume you were talking about yourself." He stares a minute, his eyes looking me over as though trying to get a read on my mental state. "You don't think you measure up?"

Don't go there, Leo. Leave it alone. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what—"

"I meant that you're a selfish asshole and I'm done talkin' about this."

I don't give him a chance to respond. It's starting to rain, Mikey and Don are still back at the warehouse alone, and even though it means doing exactly what he'd said to do earlier, I'm ready to do just about anything to keep from talking to him anymore.

He follows me as I climb up the building, taking to the rooftops and leaving the heap of mangled thugs for the cops.

"Raph wait—"

"I said I ain't talkin' about it no more! Back off Leo!"

I don't look back, but I can hear him comin' up behind me with unusually heavy footsteps. Either he's pissed or he's worried, and I don't have enough patience to care which one.

"It has nothing to do with skill level, it's about strategy. You've left Mikey and Donnie wide open to attack."

I can't help but scoff. If the world were to end today, Leo'd find some way to make it my fault.

"We're a team, Raph." Here he goes again. "We need to work together." With that condescending tone.

His hand's suddenly on my shoulder and I bristle immediately, my fists clenching tighter, ready to strike.

"Are you listening to me?"

Back off, Leo. Just back off.

"You can't go off grandstanding every time you dislike an order."

I hate him. One more word and I'll—

"Raph, you need to—"

"I don't need anything!" Hate everything about him. "I don't need your orders! I don't need your leadership! I DON'T NEED _YOU_!"

I wish he was—

"RAPH!"

I barely have time to process the fear in his voice as my fist flies through the air at his jaw, when something crashes hard into my side. Suddenly I'm flying through the air. Rain's pouring on my face, making it hard to see. Thunder snaps through the wind with a loud crack and every nerve in my body is screaming at me all at once.

Something is very wrong.

I hit the ground hard, hydroplaning across the rooftop until I collide with the brick of the raised trim on the ledge. Damn that hurt! Anger rises as I prepare the mother of all curses to hurl at my brother, who's staring off into the distance, sword drawn and ready.

"Dammit, Leo! What the hell was—"

One of his swords is missing.

I scan the horizon of roofs until I come across the intrusion; an lone purple dragon on the adjacent building, weapon lying limply in his lap, fighting to wrench free from the blade now pinning him to a chimney through his shoulder. Just barely above his heart. His frantic spasms last all of a minute before he stills entirely. Permanently.

Admittedly, it was a nice hit.

Just another notch for Leo to add to his belt of—

I smell blood. Thick and rancid. Can practically taste it on the rain. Can't be the thug's, he's too far away for the downpour not to have drowned out the smell. Then where…

A chill runs down my spine as I freeze in place, staring at the watery puddle of red that's slowly crawling towards me. For a minute, my vision blurs. Everything seems to shut down as I slowly look up, tracking the blood to it's source.

Leo's staring down at his hand by his stomach, eyes wide.

There's blood dripping down his fingers.

The denial nearly chokes me. It can't be… there's no way… "Leo?"

His sword falls to the ground with a clang that rings in my ears incessantly.

I don't remember moving. All of a sudden I'm rushing to his side as he just stares at the blood on his hand.

His shock wears off suddenly and the pain sets in; I know it's sudden because he doesn't have a chance to hide it. His face twists into a grimace that makes my chest tighten to the point that I stumble as I move towards him. I make it to him just as he starts to fall, catching my shoulder under his arm to hold him up. "Leo!" I reach a hand down to the one covering his wound, pulling it away slightly so I can take a look and see how bad.

He's been shot. Leo's been shot.

My mind shuts down as the rain no longer registers and all I can see or smell or think about is the blood, pouring down his stomach and pooling at his feet.

This can't be happening. I refuse to let this happen.

"It's alright bro, I got you."

He leans heavily on my shoulder, breathing shallow and sharp as I watch him try to get a handle on the pain. "There might be more." He grunts out through rasped breaths. "Check the perimeter, in case they—"

"Not a chance. I ain't leavin' you like this." I couldn't even if I wanted to. My legs feel like jello, and my mind won't stop running in panicked circles long enough for me to think straight.

He looks about to protest when a cough cuts him off, dribbling blood over his lips. I ain't no medic, but I know that's a bad sign. Probably means something vital's been hit.

Dammit.

My blood's running colder by the minute as my mind races trying to figure out what the shell I'm supposed to do. The only guy I know who could do any kind of good in this situation is several blocks away, and I can't leave Leo to go get him.

"Pressure."

Leo's voice barely penetrates my jumble of thoughts as I tear my eyes away from his stomach. "What?"

He puts his hand over mine on his stomach and presses it down, suppressing a cry as he does it. "Keep… pressure. Stop the bleeding."

My mind finally clicks, annoyed as hell that I had to be reminded of the obvious. Leo's the one bleeding onto the concrete and he still manages to take charge of the situation. I don't know whether to be proud or pissed, but the latter's always been easier, so I stick to what I do best. "I know." I say curtly, pushing even harder on his stomach as blood squelches through my fingers.

I think I'm gonna be sick.

"The warehouse… Mikey and Don—" He chokes on more blood, turning onto his side so he can spit it up while I hold him steady.

"I know." My voice is sharp, cutting through my fear with anger whenever possible. But Leo's not offended, he looks worried. And not about himself.

"Raph—"

"Just shut up and save your breath, Fearless. I'll give 'em a call, alright?" I take my arm out from around his shoulder, resting him on his shell as I grab my phone, and try to turn away as much as I can while still pressing on his stomach; can't let him see my hand shaking. Why pride matters at a time like this, I don't know.

I don't know why it ever does.

Several rings with no reply had us both on edge. I have to swallow my growing anger as I hang up and redial again. And again.

"Raph?"

Donnie's breathless reply catches me off guard. "Yeah Don. It's—" A loud rumble in the background cuts me off before my brother's winded voice comes through again, a twinge of anger to it that's more worrisome than the background noise.

"Where _are_ you!? We need you here!"

"Don, what's going—"

"Not now!" He cuts off with a grunt and I can hear his boe crack against what I can only assume is bone. They're in the middle of a fight. "Just get back here. Fast! We need you!" Another crack and a groan as Don sends another guy flying, I assume. At least it sounds like they're holding their own. "Is Leo with you?"

It takes me a moment to fight past my anger at what I have to say next and unclench my jaw. "Yeah. Don he's—"

"Save it, Raph! Whatever you two were arguing about, I don't care. Just tell him to get back—"

"He's been shot."

I can practically hear his eyes snap open as he gasps a surprised breath. Apparently the pause must have been enough for an opponent to take advantage because the next sound I hear is Don crying out in pain and then the phone dropping to the floor or slamming against a wall or something of the sort. "Don?" My hand curls tighter around my cell as I grind my teeth, trying my hardest not to chuck the phone against the nearest wall out of sheer frustration.

Mikey and Don were in trouble. Big trouble. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

Suddenly I feel Leo's hand on my arm and I turn to face him. He looks as worried as I feel and I got nothing to reassure him with. I turn away and speak as calmly into the phone as I can manage. "Don? Don, you there?"

"Where?"

Again, the sudden reply catches me off guard and I nearly drop the phone. "What the shell, Brainiac—"

"Where's he been shot, Raph?"

No beating around the bush. "Stomach." There's a long silence and I can feel Donnie's fear creeping through the phone, adding to my own. With Don, silence usually means he's calculating a million ways to fix the problem and sorting through to find the best answer. Usually. Sometimes it means he has no answers and he's fighting his own annoyance or fear over not being able to find a solution.

Somehow I get the feeling this is one of those second silences. My body shudders, but I tell myself it's just the cold rain.

"We're on our way. Don't let him move, Raph. Not till I get there, understand? Not even a little bit."

"I got him, egghead. Just hurry your shells up."

The minute I click the phone off, an unexpected weight of fear drops on my shoulders, like it had been waiting to drop until it was just me and Leo. I can still feel him searching for answers in my face, so I put on my most indignant frown and turn back to focus on his stomach. "They're on their way."

"Are they—"

"—Fine. Just taking care of a few unexpected stragglers." More likely it's reinforcements that have arrived to protect their weapons, but I can't think about it. I don't have the mental fortitude to worry about all three siblings being in mortal peril, especially knowing there ain't a damn thing I can do to help any of 'em.

Especially knowing it was all my—

I catch Leo's eyes a moment and notice he's starin' straight at me. He gets this look on his face and I know what he's about to say, so I cut him off before he gets a chance. "Don't even think it."

But he's Leo. Of course he's thinkin' it. "They need help." I can feel his stare bore into me just shy of pleading as I focus on trying to stop the river of blood still coursing through my fingers.

"I ain't leavin' Leo. I leave, you bleed out."

A painful grimace stops his next objection as I press harder on his stomach.

"…What if…"

I follow his gaze to where the sniper lies rotting and my muscles tighten with sudden dread as I catch the thought he's pressing. "They can handle themselves." I say irately, both trying to convince him and myself. "Besides, what force in the universe has ever been able to pin Mikey down when he's all hyped up?"

Leo smiles at that, but it quickly devolves into a cough that rattles his whole body. I can't look at him as it happens, I just keep my eyes on the bullet wound and try to convince myself the bleeding is slowing.

It'll be alright. Don will know what to do. Leo's survived being shot before, no reason why he can't now.

We sit in silence for what feels like a long while, and I am content to keep it that way; I'm still pissed as hell at him and I don't want to make all this worse by shoutin' at him again. Not till Don's patched him up. But his eyes are glossing over and starting to close, so I know I need to do something to keep him awake.

"Hey." My voice startles him from whatever thought he's in the middle of. "Keep them baby blues open, Leo. If you pass out, I ain't givin' you CPR."

"Duly noted." He says with an attempt at a grin. His eyes drift beside him and I know he's looking for Don and Mikey.

"They'll be here soon." I say quickly, trying to silence my own fears of the battle they're fighting on their own. Leo's practically twitching with the need to go find them and make sure they're alright, and I can feel my body tensing the same way. If anything happens to them…

All because I—

Leo's eyes suddenly snap shut as his body starts shaking. The groan of pain that slips from his lips tenses my throat so much I almost can't breathe. I'm not used to seeing Leo in pain. Hurt or bleeding, sure, it happens more than he'll ever admit. But pain… Leo's usually real good at keepin' that to himself.

Yet another thing that Mr. Perfect is oh so good at.

I shake that thought from my mind as quick as I can. Not now. Not when he's—

It takes several minutes before his body stops shaking, but his eyes stay closed. "Leo?" He doesn't reply and I feel every muscle in my body tense. "Leo!" No. No way. Not possible. Moving one of my blood-soaked hands to his shoulder, I give him a rough shake.

"Leo!"

Don't you even think of—

"S-Still here." He mumbles as he draws in a shallow breath.

"Don't do that!" I snap angrily, pressing my hand back on his wound a little harder, both as an ongoing attempt to stop the blood flow and as payback for that little scare.

Not scared. I'm not. Not really. He'll be fine. Fearless has had a lot of close calls over the years—a lot of 'almost's and 'should have's and 'we thought's—but he's always pulled through. He will this time.

We fall into another silence, this one being much less comforting. I try to focus on the rain, listening to it's constant drumming on my shell, but Leo's breathing drowns it all out. His shallow, rasped breathing that seems to be slowing with each passing minute.

"I know."

"What?" I glance up to see him staring into the rain. Must be mumbling in delirium or some—

"I know… you don't need me."

My defences are up in the blink of an eye, warring with the guilt lancing through my veins. I meant it. I meant what I said. Leo gettin' shot doesn't change that. And I ain't takin' it back just because he's spitting up blood.

I don't need him. I don't need his protection.

If he hadn't been protecting me, he wouldn't—

"You still... don't get it."

Anger peeks into my consciousness as I glance at him, trying to understand where he's going with this. It's a hell of a time to start throwing insults. "Get what?"

"That it's not—" He sucks in a breath and furrows his brow, holding in a cry of pain, I can only assume. "…that I—" This time it's a cough.

There's something in his voice that I can't pinpoint, but it makes my shoulders hunch in defence.

"Save the lecture for after we get home." I say firmly, hoping he drops the subject so I don't have to watch him suffer through another sentence, which he does. It looks like he's trying to meditate, likely to help him handle the pain.

Sensei's perfect student.

My mind keeps twisting back to what I shouted as my gut tells me I should apologize, but I can't. The words get stuck in my mouth like peanut butter and refuse to form. Pride holds them back. Pride and fear.

Later. I can tell him later. After he we're back at the lair and Donnie's patched him up and he's lectured me about runnin' off like I did.

My phone rings, again saving me from drowning in my own noxious thoughts. It takes several tries to pick it up because it keeps slipping through the blood on my hands. "Donnie!"

"Wrong turtle, dude."

Mikey. And he sounds out of breath. "Where the shell are you guys!?" My hand is shaking again because I can't stop the dread that's pumping through my veins.

"On our way. Donnie-boy finally managed to give the Dragons the slip by remote controlling the battleshell away from us." The slight laugh that comes through the phone does wonders to put my nerves at ease. "You shoulda seen it, dude! It was like the greatest game of Race Cars ever!" He lets out another laugh and I let my hand unclench the phone ever so slightly. Leo gives me a look and I know what he wants me to ask.

"You guys alright?"

"All good, bruh. Just…" There's a pause as he catches his breath again.

"Mikey?"

"Just tired." He sounds like he's climbing something—probably getting to the rooftops—as he lets out a tired sigh. "There were a lot of bad dude butts to kick."

A jolt of guilt spikes through me as I turn away from Leo. We shoulda been there to help. "Where's Don?"

"With me. We're moving slow, but we're on our way. Where's—" I hear Don shout something from far away—climbing up to meet Mikey, I assume—and suddenly there's an audible gasp in my ear before Mikey's loud voice cries through. "He's what!? You said he was out, you didn't say he was—" Don's talking again, argues for a minute before I hear Mikey, his voice shaking as he talks. "Don wants to know if the bleeding's stopped?"

I glance at my hand on Leo's stomach and fight the urge to curse. "No."

"Is he still awake? Talking?" Panic rises in his voice with every question. "Dude, put him on! I wanna talk to—"

"Raph?" Don has the phone now. "You there?"

"He's still awake and talking, but his speech is gettin' slow." I say without preamble.

"How's his pulse?"

I hadn't even thought to check. Annoyed at my sudden lack of hands, I place the phone on the ground a moment to press my fingers against his carotid. Leo takes the opportunity to pry for information.

"They… Ok?"

The weakness of his voice freaks me out so much I don't even hear his question. I just try to keep my hand still as I pick the phone back up. "Weak and slow."

I hear Don take a deep breath before talking again. "Ok. How's his—"

"Get here and see for yourself!" I bark unwillingly. Didn't mean to, but I can hear Don's worry creeping through the phone and it's puttin' me on edge.

"We'll be there soon. Just tell him to hang on. No passing out."

"Don," I pause, glancing down at the blood still flowing to the concrete. "Hurry." Again, I hang up the phone and feel fear creep around me like a predator waiting to strike. "They're alright. On their way now."

Leo nods, clearly relieved, but his eyes don't leave mine. He lays there, staring at me, and I feel like he's reading into my soul. It makes me uncomfortable.

Makes me feel ashamed.

Where the shell are Don and Mikey?

"Raph… Don't—" He coughs, and I have to lift his head to let the blood drip down his lips. "Don't… shut them out. They need…"

"What are you—?" My blood feels like it turns to ice the minute our eyes meet. I swear I'm not breathing anymore. And it's not because his pupils are going duller by the minute, or that his skin's startin' to look real pale. It's 'cause he has this looks on his face—this small smile and content gaze—that screams something I'm not ready to hear. Not ready to allow.

Acceptance.

Oh hell no.

"Leo, don't you dare!" I growl, pressing harder on his wound to force the blood into submission. "Keep your eyes open!"

He takes in the shallowest breath I ever saw before whispering with that weak voice that sounds nothing like him. "…Trying…"

And I know. In that moment, I know. See it. Feel it.

But I refuse to allow it.

"Well try harder! Since when do you back away from a fight!?" My heart's beatin' a mile a minute as every curse word I know runs through my head in an attempt to keep the fear from spilling into my eyes. I can't think straight. I don't know what to do! Desperation is taking over as I press harder on the wound, probably making it worse instead of better. But Leo doesn't so much as flinch which means he ain't feeling the pain.

It's all my—

He ain't feeling, his breath is barely noticeable, and his eyes are—his eyes are closing! "I said keep 'em open, dam—" the word dies in my throat as his hand covers mine, so cold that it's shaking. He's smiling. Why the hell is he smiling!? He's looking at me with that stupid smile and kind eyes. Kind and sad.

Almost guilty.

"Tell them…"

No. No, we ain't doin' this now! "Leo—!"

"…M'Sorry." He whispers something haltingly with the last of his breath, but I'm panicking too much to really let it sink in.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

"Don't you—" But his eyes close and his hand falls to the ground and I realize it wasn't his hand that was shaking, it was mine. The rain seems to freeze in it's downpour as suddenly everything goes completely silent. Still.

Empty.

What just happened?

"Leo?"

My mind is racing, thinking about the most random crap: what we had for breakfast this morning, how annoying Leo was during training, what TV show Mikey'd been watching before we left.

"Leo!?"

Why I was angry at Leo. Why I'm still angry at him. The asshole had no right jumpin' into danger for me. He had no right!

"Leonardo!"

The rain is suddenly deafening.

My eyes are wide, staring down at my brother's slack face, hands still pressed against his stomach.

His chest ain't moving. I can't hear his breath anymore. He looks so peaceful.

I hate him.

"LEO!"

I scream. As loud as I can. As long as I can. No words, no sense. Just raw, unfiltered, pain. Until my lungs burn and my throat is sore and my stomach threatens to heave.

This can't be real. He can't…

And suddenly I can't feel anything any more.

My body goes numb, my brain shuts down, and all I can do is sit there, staring at my big brother, waiting for my heart to rip out of my chest.

" _I know."_

I hate him.

" _I know… you don't need me."_

Hate his constant perfection. His impossibly high standards. His correcting and worrying.

Protecting.

" _You still… don't get it."_

Hate everything about him.

" _That it's not… That I—"_

My hands are still shaking as I lower my forehead to my brother's, nearly choking as I feel the chill of his skin against mine. "Leo…" His name is like acid on my tongue and I have to grit my teeth against the sheer pain it carries.

"Dammit…"

I can't believe he's…

He left…

"Dammit!"

I hate him.

He's…

"DAMMIT!"

The rain's pouring down my face. I feel it. Running down my cheeks, dripping from my chin onto Leo's pale skin.

Has to be the rain.

 _This is all my…_

This is…

Leo's actually…

… _Fault._

 _I hate myself._

* * *

…Yup. I told you, I was in a mood.

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_

 _(Side note, this was my first time writing entirely in first person. Huzzah for firsts)._


	2. What's Left Behind

I hadn't meant to continue this story, but while writing a fanfic for someone else, I started writing this and it got away from me a little bit. What can I say, I'm a victim of my muse.

* * *

Everything was in place.

The books hadn't moved from their shelves, lined in perfect order, not a crooked binding in sight. The weapons on the wall gleamed with polish, proudly displaying the care they received on a daily basis. The rug by the bed lay in a perfect circle, no tears or bumps or curled ends. The bed was made and tucked with hospital corners, pillows fluffed and awaiting their next use.

Perfect.

Just the way Leo liked it.

 _"It's creepy. A room should look like it's been lived in, you know? Yours looks like one of those fake bedrooms from the IKEA catalogues."_

 _"I like things clean." Leo re-tucked the corner of the bed sheet Mikey had intentionally pulled out to give a messier look to the room. "You should try it. Maybe start by cleaning your room more than once a decade."_

 _Mikey picked up a book from the organized shelf, eyeing it warily. "Dude, even your books are too organized. Your clothes are put away, you can clearly see the floor, and there's not a spec of dust on any of these shelves! How do you live like this!? It's barbaric!" He turned in time to see his brother's good-humoured eye-roll, and smiled in victory. "I'm just sayin', you could stand to be a little less perfect. It wouldn't kill you to, I don't know, relax for a few minutes."_

 _Leo snatched the book from Mikey's hand and placed it back in it's spot on the shelf. "I relax. How do you think I read all these books?"_

 _"Studying isn't relaxing." Mikey corrected. He saw the look in his brother's eyes like he was actually considering Mikey's words._

 _After a brief pause, Leo finally sighed heavily, shifting his foot to kick the rug at the foot of his bed so it was scrunched into a weird pile. "Satisfied?"_

 _Mikey glanced from the rug to Leo's expecting face and back. "…That's it?"_

 _"Baby steps." Leo ruffled Mikey's head as he walked by. "Come on, it's time for my other relaxing activity."_

 _"What?"_

 _Leo grinned. "Training."_

 _The younger turtle groaned, shaking his head. "Dude, does the term 'perfectionist' mean anything to you?"_

 _"I skewed the rug, didn't I?"_

 _Mikey stepped beside his brother to place a hand on his shoulder, a mock-disappointment in his features. "Oh young padewan, so much to learn you have."_

 _Leo rolled his eyes once more, sighing a light chuckle that made the younger turtle smile in victory again. "Let's go, Obi-Wan."_

 _"Yoda!" Mikey threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "So much to learn…"_

Mikey loved making Leo smile. And laugh! Making Leo laugh was the greatest! He was the most challenging target of his brothers, by a long shot. Don would laugh at some of his jokes or pranks, and Raph would laugh if Don was the victim of said joke or prank. Even Casey and April were easy targets. But Leo… Leo would smile, but not laugh. An actual burst of amusement from their leader was rare. Very rare. But when it happened, Mikey felt like he was on top of the world! It was like mastering a difficult kata. Made him feel accomplished. And it was always nice to see Leo actually relax for a minute. He was always so serious. So worried all the time.

Worried for everyone else.

Taking a timid step into the room, Mikey looked around and breathed in the smell. Candles and incense. Leo's room always smelled like candles and incense. It smelled like the dojo, minus the sweaty body odour. It gave the room an air of gentleness. Calm. Like a spa or a sauna.

It felt like safety.

Mikey suddenly clamped his teeth on a choked breath. His lungs were like bricks, grating against his chest and scratching holes in his throat. He walked to the bed and looked at the book on the nightstand; The Art of War. Leo'd read it before. Mikey knew because his brother had read some of it to help him sleep one time after a nightmare.

Leo was always nice to Mikey about nightmares.

All his siblings were. They might jab him every once in a while if a nightmare sounded particularly ridiculous, but none of them would ever turn him away if he was scared. Ever.

But Leo somehow could tell without Mikey waking him up. There'd been several times over the years when Mikey would jolt awake, sweating and panting and terrified out of his mind, only to find Leo sitting on his bed, pulling him into a comforting hug before he even had a chance to panic. To this day, Mikey still had no idea how Leo did it.

Now he'd never know.

Reaching for the book, Mikey was about to pick it up when a voice in his head made him hesitate.

 _'Leo would be upset if he knew I was in here rooting through his stuff. Especially if I lost his page.'_

The idea brought a strangled laugh from Mikey's throat. What a thought! What a stupid, stupid thought! Leo wouldn't care! Leo wouldn't be upset!

Because Leo couldn't care about anything anymore. Couldn't care about his stuff, about his privacy, about his training or the missions.

Couldn't care about his family. His brothers.

Mikey.

Leo couldn't be there to care about Mikey anymore. To care _for_ him.

Because Leo was gone. And he wasn't ever coming back.

Mikey choked on his own breath as a pain like a switchblade to his stomach crawled through his whole upper body. He felt sick. He was totally gonna hurl all over Leo's stuff. Leo would be—

Wouldn't care. Couldn't. 'Cause Leo was gone.

Forever.

Mikey collapsed to the floor, his arms resting on his brother's bed as his hands gripped the blankets like they were the only thing tethering him to the world. There was a ringing in his ears that drowned everything out, but he knew he was crying. Screaming. Hot tears charged down his cheeks in an unending stampede as his voice threw out whatever sounds it could to try and stop the pain.

Make it stop. Make it go away.

Bring him back.

Leo!

 _"Over here, Don!" Mikey called as he came into view of his two eldest brothers on the roof. Leo was lying prone on the ground, with Raph curled over him, heads touching as Raph held a hand on Leo's stomach. Mikey was just about to make a perfectly witty comment about his older brothers' odd position when the wind brought the smell of blood to his nostrils with such power, it almost knocked him backward. His eyes suddenly snapped open, darting around to find the source and landing on the blood pooling around Leo's mid section and trickling away with the rain. His voice became abruptly terrified. "LEO!"_

 _Not even waiting to see if Don was behind him, Mikey jumped to the roof, practically falling over beside his brother to grip his hand. His breath hitched immediately; Leo's hand was freezing! And his skin looked like he'd been dipped in bleach! "Dude, what—" The question dropped away before he could get it out._

 _Leo's eyes were closed._

 _And for some reason, Mikey felt his body going numb. No… No Don said it would be OK. He said Leo would fine. He said there was nothing to—_

 _Mikey nearly jumped when Don kneeled beside him. "Dude, you said he was fine—"_

 _"Raph, move your hand."_

 _Don's voice was calm, that had to mean he had a plan. He knew how to fix this. Leo was gonna be OK. And Mikey clung to that hope with every fibre of his being._

 _"Raph!" Don finally managed to pry his brother's hand away from the wound on Leo's stomach and the fearful breath he choked on made Mikey grip the icy hand he held tighter._

 _"You can help him, right Don? You can…" His eyes were drawn to his second eldest brother as Raph finally lifted his head from Leo's. The look on his face froze Mikey's heart._

 _No…_

 _"L-Leo…" Mikey could feel himself shaking. "Don, you have to do something! Leo's not breathing! He's bleeding and he's not breathing! You have to—"_

 _Don's hand gripped his shoulder and sent a chill down Mikey's spine. Why weren't they doing anything!? Why weren't they moving!?_

 _Why wasn't Leo breathing…?_

 _"No…" Mikey pulled away from Don to reach up and grab his brother's shoulders, ignoring how icy cold they felt, and shake him. "Leo, wake up! This isn't funny, dude! Open your eyes!"_

 _"Mikey…"_

 _"NO! He's not dead! He can't be!" How could they just give up like that!? They had to try something! "Leo! Leo, open your eyes! Come on!" Everything in Mikey was in denial. Because this couldn't be real. Couldn't! Leo always made it out—every time he got hurt, he always got better. Always! He'd never… He couldn't…_

 _Oh God…_

 _"LEO!" It felt as though something in his chest broke, and suddenly Mikey felt… everything. Pain so intense, he couldn't think. Couldn't move. Couldn't breathe!_

 _He cried._

 _His shoulders quaked as he gripped his brother's frozen hand, laying his head on Leo's unmoving chest, and he cried. His mind still shouted in denial, but his heart kept ripping apart at the seams._

 _Leo was dead. He was really gone…_

 _Mikey didn't even feel Don curl around him in a tight hug. He couldn't feel Leo's hand in his anymore. Could only feel the pain in his chest where his heart should be._

 _And the tears. He couldn't stop crying. Couldn't stop…_

 _" **LEO!** "_

The same tears as on the roof were running down Mikey's cheeks again as he gripped Leo's bedding and buried his face in the blankets. The pain in his chest was still there. It'd been a month since Leo…

And Mikey still felt like he'd been taken apart and put together with pieces missing.

Another surge of anguish had Mikey burying his head further into the blankets, making it harder to breathe. He just wanted to curl up and never feel anything ever again. It all hurt too much. From Leo's perfect bedroom to the extra chair at the kitchen table, to the space on the couch where Leo liked to read. It all screamed their loss. Screamed it so loud it was impossible not to hear, impossible to ignore, impossible to block out.

Mikey cried even louder, feeling his lungs grasp for air with every breath as his chest did it's best to pry itself open through his plastron.

"Leo!" He was gone. His leader. His defender. His role model.

His _big brother_ was dead. And the world somehow expected him to just move past it and keep living.

Mikey suddenly couldn't breathe at all. There was too much! Too much pain, too much memory, too much desperation! Where was Leo!? Why wasn't he here!? How could he have—Why did he have to—

A hand to his shoulder snapped Mikey's head up, frightened eyes darting as his lungs burned with protest.

"Breathe, Michelangelo. Deep breaths." Splinter inhaled fully, watching carefully as his son copied his movements, taking one slow breath after another until the color returned to his face.

The two sat in silence as Mikey continued to inhale and exhale slowly, trying to stop the tears still pouring down his face. When he finally spoke, it was rough and grated, like he'd been screaming for hours. Maybe he had. "It's not fair, Sensei. He wasn't supposed to… He always had a plan. He always made it out. Why did he..."

Words wouldn't form anymore past the lump in his throat, and Mikey felt his panic rising again. Splinter drew his son's gaze and took a moment to breathe together once more.

"Leo's dead!" Mikey cried, falling into his father's arms as fresh tears leapt down his cheeks. "It's not fair! He's gone… he's really—it's not fair! Why him!? Why Leo!? He never did anything but help people, why'd he have to—" A sob pierced through his lips as all his emotions poured out at once, choking the life from him. "I want him back, Sensei… I want Leo back! We can't keep going without him! I don't want to! We need—we can't just—How could he—"

"Hush…" Splinter held his son close against his chest, caressing the dome of his head to calm his breathing.

Mikey wrapped his arms around his Father, sobbing into his robe. "…he's dead… he's really dead…"

Splinter closed his eyes to the grief crawling from his heart to his throat and focused on his youngest child, holding on tightly. He said not a word, but his silence said everything.

 _I miss him, too._

* * *

Yup.

 _End of Line_

 _-TRAaP_


	3. When We Fall

Again, I hadn't meant to continue this. But again, I was in the middle of writing another request when this popped into my head and I had to write it.

In case it isn't clear, this takes place 2 days after Leo's death, whereas the last chapter was a month after.

* * *

" _Behind you, Don!"_

 _The tall turtle spun quickly, but wasn't fast enough to get his bō up in time to—_

" _Ah!"_

 _The thug was suddenly flung into the wall, courtesy of an impressive kick by the turtle in blue. Don could only blink in surprise at how fast his brother had moved. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Thanks Leo."_

 _The elder nodded, quickly scanning the room for any remaining enemies. His eyes landed on Mikey who knocked the last of the thugs unconscious._

" _Looks like that's all of them." Don noted triumphantly._

" _For now." Leo glared at the thug by his feet, noting the phone jutting from his jean pocket. "Even if they didn't send for reinforcements, there's bound to be more on the way to check their shipment. We'll have to move fast." Sheathing his swords, he glanced around the room once more. "Where's Raph?"_

" _Took off after that group that ran down the alley." Mikey piped in, flipping over the crates of weaponry to land beside his brothers. "Probably beating them into a puddle of purple-dragon mush by now. He seemed pretty cranky. Or… more so than usual."_

 _Don saw Leo frown as he followed Mikey's gaze out the back door. The irritated sigh that split their leader's lips almost made Don smile; it wouldn't be a mission if Raph wasn't doing something to annoy Leo._

" _I told him not to leave."_

 _The worry in his tone drained the smile from Don's face. "You think it was a trap?"_

" _Or at least a distraction. They may be trying to separate us until reinforcements arrive." Leo sighed again. "He'll never learn."_

 _A large clap of thunder made Mikey jump, grabbing Leo's arm in mock-fright. "Dude… I think Raph heard you! He's sending the rain to smite you!"_

 _Leo didn't seem to notice Mikey's quip, shaking his brother off as he turned to the door. "You two stay here in case the Dragons return." The irritation in his voice was unmasked. "I'll go get Raph."_

" _Leo," Don stopped his brother, peering uneasily at him. "You sure you don't want help?" Something was clearly bothering him. Whether it was a gut feeling or a dangerous vibe, one thing was for certain, Leo felt something was off. And Leo's instincts were never to be ignored._

 _If Raph was in trouble, Don wanted to be there._

 _But the leader shook his head. "I'm sure. Just make sure Mikey doesn't touch the weapons and accidently blow himself up."_

 _Both brothers looked to their youngest who was quick to drop the semi-automatic he'd been holding, folding his hands behind his back in innocence. "I was only looking!"_

 _Don rolled his eyes._

" _I'll be quick. Start loading the weapons into the Shellraiser. And Don," The purple-masked turtle turned, noting the hint of worry in his leader's demeanour. "Keep your cell on. If trouble shows up, call immediately. Got it?"_

" _I know." Don nodded. He watched his brother turn away reluctantly and couldn't tell who it was the leader was worried about, them or Raph. But either way, something was up._

 _Staring at his brother's shell as he left, Don shrugged his shoulders. If it were something they needed to be worried about, Leo'd have said something. For now…_

 _Leo could handle it._

A tremble overtook Don's body, forcing him to pull away from his needle so as not to damage anything. He couldn't stop picturing Leo's shell as he'd walked away. Couldn't stop thinking about how odd it had been to hear Leo worried. But how could he have known Leo would be…

He'd felt something was off. But it was the tiniest sliver of a feeling. A slight twinge buried in the back of his mind that was no more worrisome or noticeable than the desire to blink.

How could he have...

Don shook his head. It was foolish to think of such things. What happened, happened. There was nothing they could do to change it now.

Nothing he could do.

Nothing he could have…

" _Mikey, this way!" Don pulled his younger brother down beside him, hiding from the Purple Dragons hot on their heels._

" _Dude, we're sittin' ducks down—"_

" _Wait for it." Don pressed a button on his wrist and suddenly the battle shell roared to life, drawing their attackers towards it. Don quickly input a course and the vehicle was off._

" _Don't let 'em get away!"_

 _There was a bustle of noise as the thugs ran for their trucks and bikes, darting out after the shellraiser at full speed._

 _Mikey and Don waited a moment, taking a second to breathe before sneaking out the back._

" _Dude, where are we going? They only left three guys, we can totally take them!"_

" _Leo's hurt, we have to get to Raph."_

" _What? Is he okay?"_

" _I'm sure he'll be fine, but I need to get there and see for myself." Not a lie, but not the whole truth. And fortunately, Mikey didn't ask for any other details. Don silently breathed a sigh of relief; the last thing he needed was a hysterical brother on his hands. He needed them both to stay calm while he figured out a solution._

 _Leo might be dying…_

" _Let's go." Don said quickly, running away from that last thought. His mind was rushing through everything he knew about stomach wounds, and none of it was offering answers he wanted to hear. If the bullet hit anything vital…_

 _They had to hurry._

" _Right behind you, D-Man!"_

 _But both were moving sluggish. Their battle had been intense, leaving them exhausted and injured enough to impede their regular agility. Don pressed them onward, his fear growing with every tick of his watch. They were moving too slow. From the sounds of it, Leo'd lost a lot of blood, which didn't give Don much time to stitch him up by the time they got him back to the lair. And that's not even considering what might be happening if his liver or kidneys had been hit._

 _Faster. Get there faster._

 _He had Mikey call Raph for an update, and from the sounds of it, Leo was in bad shape, and Don couldn't shake the fear scratching at his calm exterior._

" _Get here and see for yourself!" Raph's voice barked angrily through the phone._

" _We'll be there soon. Just tell him to hang on. No passing out." Couldn't let himself panic. He could figure this out. Get there, see the problem, find the solution. It's what he did best._

 _Mikey shot Don a pleading, betrayed look. "You said he was fine!"_

" _He will be." Don said adamantly. Tossing the cell back to his brother, he readied himself for a hard run. "Come on."_

 _But the growing dread in Don's veins had been right. By the time they made it to their brothers, Leo was already passed out. Mikey was by Leo's side instantly, holding his hand, and Raph had a palm pressing on the wound with his head bowed to Leo's._

 _For whatever reason, Don paused to take the scene in._

 _And suddenly couldn't move._

 _He didn't know why—the way Raph looked as he held their brother, or maybe the thick smell of blood in the rain—but in that moment he knew._

 _Leo was already gone. They were too late._

 _Denial slammed into his mind so hard, he could almost feel his logic being forced to the back of his skull. Take a look. Maybe he's still… maybe there's still a chance._

" _Raph, move your hand." He finally said, kneeling beside Mikey and ignoring the pleading look on his face._

 _But Raph didn't move._

 _Don tried forcing his hand away, but it was firmly in place. He couldn't see the wound to— "Raph!" And finally he shoved the appendage aside, swallowing his fear when blood squelched over Leo's plastron at the release of pressure. Don couldn't even see the wound itself through all the gushing liquid. He wiped the rain from his eyes—was it the rain? When had it started?—and did his best to inspect the bullet hole. But between the weather, the lack of light, and the fact that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to focus on anything else, he couldn't find much._

 _Not that he needed to. He knew the truth. Knew it almost from the moment he'd gotten Raph's phone call._

 _There was nothing they could have done._

 _Acceptance dropped like a brick to the pit of his stomach, nearly making him gag. He finally looked up from the blood to see Raph moving away from Leo's head, an emptiness to his eyes that chilled Don's bones._

 _His attention was drawn back to his youngest brother when the pleading started—or continued, Don hadn't really heard what Mikey'd been saying before—and it was all he could do to keep himself from actually obeying. He wanted to do something. Wanted to have an answer._

 _He placed his hand on Mikey's shoulder, and it was like he'd punched his brother in the face with the way his eyes dripped with betrayal. Clearly, the younger's mind was still in the heavy throws of denial, because before Don could blink, Mikey was shaking Leo's shoulders begging him to wake up._

 _Don waited patiently. Mikey was usually slower because he felt things more potently than the rest of them._

 _Give it a minute. Let it sink in._

 _This was going to burry him._

 _The minute Mikey started crying, Don's arms were instinctively wrapping around him, trying to keep him together._

 _Focus on Mikey. Don't let him break. Focus on…_

 _Leo…_

 _The bullet must have hit something. Probably the liver. Must have been. There was a lot of blood for such a small bullet. Such a small piece of metal that held such power… that took down a whole person. A whole life._

 _Leo…_

 _Don felt the rain on his cheeks, hot and blinding. There was a pang in his heart, like a shard of glass was attempting to move through his ventricles, scratching and scraping them open as it went. Is this what dying felt like? Is this what…_

 _Leo…_

 _Leo was dead._

 _Don stared down at his eldest brother as a tremble he was unable to still radiated through his body. He pulled Mikey closer and held him tight, hoping somehow the contact would quell the pain._

 _It didn't._

 _Nothing ever would._

Don's hand began to quake again, forcing him to set his instruments down. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Focus on the task. The pain will leave, just focus. Breathe.

Another deep inhale had him immersing back into his work. His magnifying glasses perched on his face, Don finished with the last of the stitches, stepping back to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He'd spent the past two days meticulously combing over his brother's body, making sure every scratch was bandaged, every cut stitched, and every crack in his plastron was repaired to perfection.

They would burry him out in Northampton. Not because it was Leo's favourite spot or because he'd asked to be laid to rest there, but April thought they'd have more solitude to mourn. A thoughtful suggestion, Don felt. April was always thoughtful.

Honestly, if they could figure out a way, Don would have liked to burry Leo somewhere in Japan. Near where Splinter's clan used to live. Leo had always wanted to visit Japan…

Nausea rumbled in Don's stomach as he quickly turned away from the table—and the thought—to wash his hands. Whatever the case, Leo was ready for burial.

Leo was… no. No, this wasn't Leo.

Walking back to the table and staring down at the body, Don felt his nausea grow.

This wasn't his brother. This wasn't the sibling who would put him to bed at ungodly hours of the morning when he'd fallen asleep at his computer. This wasn't the turtle who would help him collect the junk and scraps he needed for his tinkering. This wasn't the one who sat by his bed every time he got sick, just to make sure he stayed warm through the night.

This wasn't Leo. This was a corpse. A remnant. Nothing more than an empty shell.

A drop of water fell to Leo's cheek, drawing Don's gaze to his face. Where had that—

…He looked so peaceful. So vulnerable. It was obscenely rare to see Leo without his guarded expression, even when he was happy. Don could only think of a handful of times he'd seen it, and most of them were when Leo was injured or unconscious. Like the time Don was allowed to drive Casey's car up at Northampton and Leo fell asleep in the back seat. Or this past summer when they were enjoying some downtime at the farmhouse and all four of them fell asleep in the sun, curled up on one another like a dog pile (or 'cuddle-pile' as Mikey had dubbed it, much to Raph's chagrin).

Leo deserved more moments like that. He deserved to live a happy life.

He deserved to _live_.

As gently as possible, Don reached out and wiped the droplet from his brother's face. His skin was so cold… and entirely the wrong shade of green. Leo's skin was always a deep green, bringing out the blue of his eyes. Eyes that would never open again.

Another water droplet fell. And another. Were those tears? Why was he crying? There was no sense in crying over this. It was a body. Just a corpse. Not Leo.

Leo was dead.

Don's breath hitched as his legs buckled beneath him, sinking him to his knees. His head bowed to rest against his brother's as the world around him faded away into irrelevance. The tears came swifter and swifter until Don no longer knew if he was breathing anymore.

Just crying. Silently crying. And begging the universe to give his brother back.

"I'm sorry Leo…" If only he'd been faster. If only he'd gotten there quicker. Maybe he could have… "I'm so sorry."

No more logic. No more distractions.

Only tears. Quiet, desperate, tears.

* * *

I'm beginning to think my brain enjoys angst to an unhealthy degree.

Should I use time titles ("one month later", "two days later", etc)? Or did it make sense on it's own?

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_


	4. When it Hits the Fan

I've had this chapter written for a while, I just wasn't sure I wanted to post it (it's not my best work, I don't think). But why not?

I'll let you all be the judges.

* * *

"Where else could we take him? There aren't any parks secluded enough that we could burry him around here. And we are n _ot_ burying him in the sewers." Don was adamant about that. It may be home, but it was still a sewer. Leo deserved something better…

"But the farmhouse is so far! We'd almost never see him!" Mikey's pleas reeked of despair. His pain was still too raw to even attempt to hide. "I don't want him to be so far away! _He'd_ want to be close, to keep an eye on us…"

Don sighed when Mikey's voice broke, having a hard time distancing himself from his own heartache. He couldn't move to comfort his brother, could only watch as Splinter draped an arm around their youngest's quaking shoulders.

"Your brother will always be with us, my son. There is no distance far enough to keep his spirit from remaining here." He placed a gentle hand over Mikey's heart.

"I know…" Mikey sucked in a deep breath, trying to get his tears under control. "I just… I don't want him to be alone up there…"

Don, still unable to move, forced his way through the metal shard of grief piercing his chest to speak. "We'll still keep him close. Maybe we can put a picture up in the dojo…" The idea of even walking in there made his gut churn, but Don swallowed his emotions. "Then you can see him whenever you want."

Mikey wiped a hand across his eyes to look blearily at his brother. "He'd like that, wouldn't he."

Don could only nod, not able to break through the lump in his throat as he forced the tears in his eyes to remain where they were.

Mikey sniffled, leaning slightly into the comfort of his father's hug. "Ok… when will we move him?"

"Tonight." Don cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up and turning to head for his lab, grateful the conversation was over. "April and Casey have a truck ready. They'll be here after dark."

* * *

Don leaned on the exam table, staring down at the black patchwork of material. It was scraped together from all kinds of fabric he'd found over the years, and took him two weeks to sew. He'd been planning on using it to cart a specimen from stockman's lab back to the lair almost a decade ago, when a mutagen virus had been spreading across the city and he was getting desperate to find a cure. Never ended up needing it, so he was going to throw it out, but in their line of work, one never knew when something might be needed. Always better to be prepared, as Leo always—

Never dreamed it would cover his brother's corpse.

A mournful wine bubbled at the back of his throat, but Don coughed it away when he heard a knock at the door.

"Donnie?"

Mikey's meek voice barely registered as Don was suddenly focused on patting his emotions down. His younger sibling was in enough pain, he didn't need to see his brother break down into tears. "The door's open." Mikey crept through the door with a mug in his hand, steam wafting from the black liquid inside, and immediately froze at the sight of the black bag on the table. Don watched as his brother's eyes stared for several long minutes before finding the floor. The tall turtle walked to take the mug, blocking Mikey's view of the bag. "Coffee?"

Mikey blinked rapidly, nodding his head as he tried to reign in his pounding heart. "April made it. Though you might want some."

"They're here? Then we should—"

"They said we should wait a bit. Something about traffic still being heavy."

"Oh." Don could feel the weight of his brother's grief with every word he spoke, but had nothing to comfort him with, save keeping him from having to look at the corpse. A heavy silence stretched as both stood motionless, unable to find words and unable to move.

"I wanna see him."

The adamancy in Mikey's voice jarred Don from his thoughts. He shook his head. "Mikey, it's… it's not a good idea."

"I wanna see him. Just one last time. I wanna see Leo—"

"It's not Leo anymore, Mikey." Don furrowed his brows as he fought to tamp down the pain that was edging out in his voice. He placed the coffee on the counter as he drew in a calming breath. "It's not Leo… it's a corpse. An empty body. It's discoloured and drained of life and it's not Leo. Leo's gone…"

He peeked over at Mikey to see his shoulders hunch up and his head bow in sorrow. "I know…" It looked like he was shaking. "I just… I never got to say goodbye…"

A sigh blew past Don's lips as he fought between his protective and his compassionate instincts. Mikey was sure to have nightmares… But that wasn't reason enough to deny him closure.

"Make it quick." He finally resigned, walking over to the table. His hand hesitated over the zipper, staring his baby brother down once more. Mikey apparently knew what he was going to say.

"I know, Don. I'm ready." Or as ready as he'd ever be to see the corpse of his brother.

Don nodded, slowly peeling the zipper down and revealing the face and neck. He turned away immediately, unwilling to look at this carcass again. This emptiness that had once been his leader…

"Leo…" Mikey breathed the name in broken reverence, like it was a piece of fine china that would break if uttered too loudly. He stepped closer, repulsed by the color of his brother's skin. It was bleached and greying, almost unrecognizable. "…His mask's still on."

"Sensei's idea." Don replied quietly, still refusing to look at the body. "Said it was an honor for a warrior to be buried with his armor."

"Honor, huh?" Mikey touched the tail of the bandana, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. "He'd like that." A powerful thrumming began in his chest, stopping his breath as he tried to hold in his tears. "You deserve it, Leo. You're the most honorable guy I know." Placing the bandana tails down with more gentleness than he'd ever displayed, Mikey stared at the paling face of his eldest brother. "We'll miss you, bro. We… We really…" A knot had formed in his chest and travelled all the way to his throat, making it almost impossible to talk. But he had to say it. "We love you. A lot. And I… I hope you…" Tears started tracking down his cheeks as his body shook to try and relieve the pressure of emotions building in his chest.

Suddenly Don's arms were around him, pulling him close.

"He knows, Mikey. He knows."

* * *

"You think they're alright back there? Maybe we should stop for a rest and check on them."

"We've only been on the road fourty minutes, Babe. We're barely out of the city."

April turned to glance over her shoulder. "But it's cold back there. They might need—"

"They have the space heater and plenty of blankets."

"But what if they—"

"Babe," Casey's free hand went to her knee, his voice as gentle as possible. "They're riding with the body of a brother their about to go bury. They're not okay. And stoppin' for snacks ain't gonna fix that."

April sighed, a slight tremble on her lips as grief peeked into her heart. Casey moved his hand to grip hers and she held on tight, wishing that squeezing hard enough would make the pain go away. A quiet sob escaped her lips before she was able to tamp down the rest of her sorrow. No time for tears right now. She had to be strong. For the turtles, for Splinter.

For Leo. She owed him at least that much.

Casey rubbed his thumb over her hand, comforting as best he could while he drove.

"I miss him." April whispered, her head bowed with her chin to her chest as she breathed deep. "It's only been two days and I already…"

"Me too." Casey's other hand tightened around the wheel. "Me too…"

The next two hours were spent in almost perfect silence as the group left the bustle of New York and started driving through the mountains. It was still dark out, but the sun would be in the sky by the time they made it to the farmhouse.

Stopping for gas, April futily offered the family food, knowing full well they'd all refuse. She left a bag of snacks in the back in case they changed their mind, but didn't expect to find it empty when they stopped again.

As she closed the doors to the trailer, her eyes clipped the black body bag stretching from Splinter's lap that everyone was sitting around. She quickly shut the door, taking a moment to find her breath again.

Leo…

Tears pricked her eyes once more, but she wiped them away and found her seat up front, waiting for Casey to finish filling the tank.

He hopped up to his spot, glancing at April's forlorn face as he buckled his seatbelt. "How they doin'?"

April could only shake her head as she waited for the movement of the truck to distract her from the pain in her chest.

It was miles before she was able to speak again, glancing at the trees as they faded one by one. "Has he spoken to you?"

Casey blinked, trying to find her train of thought. "Who?"

"Raph."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "No. Hasn't said a word to anyone, far as I know."

April took a moment to process that. "He feels responsible…"

"He's the only one who knows what happened, but he ain't talkin'." Casey breathed out his frustration.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

There was a pause as Casey pictured the emptiness in his friend's eyes when they'd first found out. He took another calming breath, suddenly craving a wall to punch, before finally admitting, "Honestly Red, I don't know."

April folded her arms, sinking deeper into the seat.

It had all happened so fast…

" _You're late. The guys are definitely gonna be home by now."_

 _April closed the door to her apartment with her foot as Casey came to relieve her of the grocery bags in her hands. "I know, I know! I couldn't catch a taxi, and the train was down, so I had to walk all the way from China town."_

" _China town? What were you—" Casey answered his own question as he unloaded the groceries, pulling a tin of tea from the bag. "Ah. For Splinter?"_

" _Leo'd mentioned they were running low, so I thought I'd bring some over tonight."_

 _April stripped her backpack off, happy to be rid of the heavy load, when her cell began to ring._

" _If that's Mikey complainin' that we're late with the pizza, remember that it wasn't my fault."_

" _For once." April shot her boyfriend a cheshire grin that made him chuckle before she finally answered her phone._

" _Hello? Hey Donnie, I'm sorry we're late. Casey was running errands and lost track of the time." A wadded up grocery bag was chucked at her head as she tried not to laugh. "We'll be there as soon as—"_

 _Casey was preparing another grocery bag ball when he saw April's smile suddenly disappear. Trouble. He moved closer to see if he could hear the other end of the conversation._

" _Donnie, what's wrong." April could feel the turtle's brokenness through the phone as potently as if she'd been smacked across the face with it. "We're leaving right now. Donnie, what happened? Is everyone alright?" She paused, listening to her friend on the other end with worry etching itself into her bones. "Ok. We'll be there soon."_

 _Casey came beside her, touching her shoulder as she gripped the phone with all her might. "Red?"_

" _Something's wrong."_

" _What is it?"_

" _He wouldn't tell me. Said it's better to hear it in person."_

 _Casey could feel the light tremble beginning in April's body and held both her shoulders for support. "We don't know anything yet. No use worrying until we get the whole picture."_

" _You didn't hear him. Casey, I've never heard Don sound so broken. Never." She looked him in the eyes, her own shimmering with sudden dread. "Something is very wrong."_

 _Casey was struck by her earnest fear. His brow furrowed and he grabbed his coat, his clubs, and his mask. "Let's go."_

 _They made it to the lair in record time, concern adding speed to their journey. As they stepped through the turnstile entrance, April's feet suddenly froze. She gripped Casey's hand as a shiver ran down her spine._

 _The whole room felt… heavy. Thick. With what, April couldn't tell, but whatever it was pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe._

" _Guys?" Casey called, tugging April along with him as he stepped further into the lair. "What's going on? You got us all worked up over here."_

 _A minute passed that felt like an hour before Don finally stepped out from the med bay._

" _Don, where's every—?" The question ended the minute Casey took in his friend's face. April was wrong… broken just wasn't a strong enough word for what Don looked like. His eyes were red, his cheeks stained with tears, and his whole body looked like it wanted to collapse into itself and die. "…Don?" Casey immediately clenched his hands into fists, anger rising at whatever or whoever dared to hurt his family this way._

 _April stepped forward to touch the tall turtle's shoulders. "Donnie… Donnie, what happened? Is everyone OK?" She asked as gently as her panicking emotions would allow. But when he didn't answer, her fear got the best of her. She shook him slightly. "Donnie! Where are the others? What hap—?" Her mind reeled when he finally looked her in the eyes. So much pain… he'd never looked like this before. Dread consumed her as he opened his mouth to speak. All it took was one word. A name._

" _Leo…" It barely made it past his lips before Don's sobs could no longer be contained. He bit his lower lip to get a hold of himself, but April wasn't paying attention anymore. Nor was Casey._

 _Practically tripping over themselves as they rushed to the med bay doors, dread settled like an avalanche, cold and unyielding as they came upon the rest of the family: Mikey was crying with his face buried in Leo's arm as Splinter caressed his shell, his face a wash of barely contained emotions._

 _And on the table, motionless, pale, and covered in blood, lay Leonardo._

" _Leo…" April couldn't move. Her every nerve screamed to go to the body, find a pulse, and prove this was all a nightmare. But she couldn't feel her legs. Everything was going completely numb as her brain tried frantically to grasp what was going on._

 _Casey cursed under his breath, eyes wide as he moved slowly to the table. This was impossible. Leo was the smartest fighter he knew, there's no way some thug or soldier was able to bring him down. No way…_

 _He touched Leo's forearm and pulled back in surprise; his skin was freezing! It… It couldn't be… His eyes found their way to the hole in Leo's stomach, glaring in sudden understanding. Some coward with a gun had killed Leo from afar. Shot him. Skulked in a corner and waited for his chance to attack._

 _The coward. Didn't even have the decency to face Leo head on._

" _Bastard." Casey cursed again, his hands curling back into fists at his side as his body trembled with rage._

 _Behind him, a gasp erupted from April's lips as the shock finally began to wear off. Her legs turned to jelly, sinking her to her knees as she covered her mouth. "No… No!"_

 _Casey shouted, overturning a tray of tools and revelling in the loud clatter as they scattered across the floor. His shoulders heaved up and down as his lungs dragged in fist-fulls of air, rage seeping from every pore. Casey closed his eyes, hands tightening ever more. "AAAAAAH!" He shouted again, trying to shut out the pain._

 _April felt tears spring from her eyes as she sat on her knees, fixated on the cold body that had once been her friend. Her brother._

" _Leonardo…"_

April curled her arms tighter around herself, trying to rid her body of the fear seeping from the memory.

How could this have happened?

Why? Why this family? Why now?

Why Leo?

She turned to stare out the window of the truck, watching the trees passing by as rainclouds set in overhead. Several droplets rolled down her cheeks.

 _Why…?_

* * *

Gosh, it seems like forever since I've posted anything. It's certainly been a while since I've written anything new. Ah, the trials of a creative mind with a full time job…

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_


	5. Difference in Approach

Apparently this is the story that refuses to die. Ironic.  
I may as well do away the pretence of not continuing, because my mind is already writing another scene as we speak.

Angst through and through. You have been warned.  
(This one jumps around a bit. Please let me know if it's too confusing)

* * *

It was the silence. Amplified everything. Hurt, loss, denial, anger. Everything. Grief dripped from every nook and cranny of the old farmhouse, drowning April in it's current. She wanted to talk, to break the silence and at least attempt to heal the pain, but her fear stopped her. Fear of saying something wrong. Fear of hurting everyone further.

Fear of facing her own heartache.

But the silence!

It was the weather. It was too cold for burying Leo, the ground was still too frozen. It was supposed to warm up significantly by morning tomorrow. Less than twenty-four hours. Then they could break the silence. Then they could face their anguish. Then they could burry…

She prayed it would snow tomorrow.

A soft mumbling from the main room caught her attention, and April followed it out of the kitchen. She brought a tray of sandwiches—no one would eat them, but she couldn't help but try—and found Don sitting on the couch, some sort of gizmo in pieces on the coffee table in front of him, with a string of murmured confusion pouring from his mouth. She set the tray on an empty piece of table. "Don? You alright?"

"It just doesn't make sense."

"What does—"

"I've taken apart and retested every circuit and they're all functioning properly, but when I put them together, the drone won't work."

April paused a moment, looking at the pieces displayed on the table like a jigsaw puzzle. He certainly was being meticulous about one little drone. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. You're always—"

"I can't. I can't fix it. I've tried everything—everything I can think of—but it's not—nothing's working. Even when I put it together—it must be missing a piece. I can't fix it. I can't…"

April saw his hands begin to tremble and immediately held them in her own. "Donnie…"

"It's nothing. Nothing… Nothing I could do…"

She watched his eyes close and his throat tense and knew he was holding in whatever well of despair was clawing to get out. But the only thing she could think of to do was place her hand on his cheek and whisper words she was sure he knew but would never believe. "It's not your fault. You did everything you… It's not your fault."

"I…" Don stuttered, his hands releasing the parts he'd been clasping, letting them fall to the floor in a broken heap. "I should have… I'm supposed to… but I couldn't…" His eyes fell past her to the floor, staring at the fractured pieces of his drone.

" _He's been shot."_

Pieces. Broken. Too shattered to fix.

" _Don, hurry."_

Something missing. Wouldn't work without it. If only he could—

April's arms were suddenly wrapped around him, tears streaking her face and falling on his arm.

"It's OK, Don."

Not her tears. His. He was crying again. Why was he—?

"We're here."

Her voice was shaking. Or was that still his hands? Why were his hands shaking?

The drone. Pieces on the floor. He should pick them up. Fix them.

Couldn't… Couldn't get there in—

April held Don closer as his body shook even harder, her own tears springing to the brim.

"We'll get through this together."

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" Don stepped forward, glaring at his older brother's shell.

"Out."

Raph didn't explain himself further, forcing Don to grab his shoulder. "No. You're not." He'd hit a nerve. He could feel his brother's muscles tensing. And he didn't care. "Sensei said we're not ready to be out there yet. We stay." His commanding tone only seemed to piss his brother off further.

"I'm getting air."

But Don wasn't buying it. He knew better. He knew that look in his brother's eye. Raph was looking for a fight. Had been for the past two months. Planting his feet, Don gripped his brother's shoulder tighter and spoke with finality. "We. Stay."

Raph seethed with contempt. "You givin' me an order, Donnie-boy?"

And for once, Don was unafraid. "It was Sensei's order. I'm enforcing it."

"S'at so? And how you gonna do that?" Raph turned, his broad shoulders and heavy steps screaming intimidation.

And for once, Don wasn't cowed. "I was hoping to appeal to your better nature, but I'm starting to wonder if you have one."

Raph stepped forward, his anger spewing from his lips. "Screw you, Donnie! I don't have to listen to you!"

For once.

"You ain't my leader!"

Don. Didn't.

"You _ain't_ Leo!"

Care.

A sudden punch to his face had Raph on the floor, blood dripping from his nostril and a glare that could break glass aimed at the ground. No retaliation or bewilderment. Almost like he'd wanted it to happen. And it was all Don could do to stop himself from throwing another punch.

Reason it out logically. Understand.

Leo was dead. Raph was angry. Raph wanted to vent his anger by finding revenge. Finding revenge meant going topside and beating up the world until the murderer was found. Don was stopping him from beating up his pain and venting his anger, so Raph was taking his anger out on Don. Logically, it all made sense. Logically, Don understood his brother's loss and desperate need to do something to make it go away. Logically, Don knew the best way to help was to either aid in his rampage or back off and let him vent.

Logically.

But Don was in pain too. Don felt loss and despair and anger. Don had also lost a brother. Raph should understand it wasn't just him who was hurting. Raph should follow the logic to see he's not the only one dying slowly from grief that will never go away. Raph should be trying to comfort Don by doing what he's told and staying safe so they don't risk losing someone else to the evils of the world.

"We. Stay." Don reaffirmed, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. "We stay hidden, and we stay safe. And I don't care how pissed off you are, I'm not losing another brother to _your temper_." Too far. He felt it. Couldn't stop it.

Meant it.

Logically, Raph should understand Don was just scared and hurt and trying to fight back against the wall of guilt constantly crushing him. Logically, Don should apologize and talk this out so they could all try to find closure together.

Logically, Leo should still be alive.

Logic no longer made sense.

* * *

"This is almost as cold as that time me and Don fell through the ice. You remember, Leo? We were in the midst of an epic battle for snow-fort territory and we ended up on the river. And Don, in his infinite wisdom, decided to prove how frozen the water was by hitting it with his bō and it cracked beneath him." Mikey snorted a short laugh. "It's always the smartest people who do the dumbest things."

"I remember that." A thick blanket dropped over his shoulders as Casey folded down to sit beside him. "You shoulda seen Raph's face: went from laughter to freaked so fast it got whiplash."

Mikey curled the blanket tighter around himself, grateful for the warmth. "It _was_ pretty funny, until I got pulled under trying to help Don up." He mused, his eyes quickly losing their luster at his next thought. "If it hadn't been for Leo…"

A somber silence crept through the barn, making Casey tense. He stared at the black bag in front of them, his heart pulsing with equal parts rage and grief, until the shivering of the turtle next to him brought him out of his thoughts. "You should go warm up. Splinter's got a fire going inside, and I bet there's still some food—"

"No thanks." Mikey only nestled deeper into the blanket, his eyes set on the black bag and never leaving. "I don't want him to be alone."

Casey could barely look at the expression on his face.

"Mike, I know this is… I mean, I get why…" He scratched his head, fighting to find the right words. Nothing he could say would be right. Nothing would make any of this easier. He sighed. "I'll stay with him." Mikey didn't move, so Casey put a hand to his shoulder to grab his attention. "He wouldn't want you gettin' sick. I'll keep him company till you warm up a bit."

The young turtle's eyes dropped to the ground, his brows pulled up into the most depressing expression Casey'd ever seen on a person. He started to wonder if he'd prodded the wrong nerve when Mikey finally spoke. "…You won't leave him till I come back?"

Casey nodded firmly. "Swear."

"…Ok." Mikey stood slowly, taking one last forlorn look at the bag before whispering, "I'll be back soon, bro." and leaving the barn. The wind outside made the air even colder, so he pulled the blanket closer around his neck to—

What was that noise? Something drifting over the wind. Mikey was immediately on edge; was someone lurking around the property? Wouldn't be the first time. As he searched the tree line for the source of the noise, his eyes landed on a particular tree… a large oak right where the house clearing ended and the forest began. Taller than most, with a solid, thick trunk, and plenty of leaves in the summer.

Leo's reading tree.

In the warmer months, when they came out here to recuperate from a battle or catch a few days of well-earned vacation, Leo liked to climb up at least half-way and sit with a book for hours on end.

" _Why in a tree, Leo? Why not on the porch or by the fireplace, like they always do in movies?"_

 _Mikey saw his older brother's lips curl into the barest of smiles. "The view."_

 _Leo nodded for Mikey to join him, which he did, taking only a few moments to climb the remaining branches to his brother's spot. He looked out over the rest of the trees, the birds and the river down the hill in plain view, and couldn't help being struck by the beauty of it all. "Ok… I admit. It's nice up here. Don't know if it compares to a New York skyline, but—"_

" _Not that." His brother put his hands on either side of Mikey's face and turned his head a hundred and eighty degrees to look back at the house. "This."_

 _Splinter was rocking on the porch in the chair Casey had made him last Christmas, enjoying a cup of green tea in the shade, April was working with Don on some sort of project in front of the barn, both talking fast until they were suddenly in unison and couldn't help but share a laugh, and Raph was sparring with Casey in front of the house, both smack-talking back and forth and grinning like idiots from ear to ear._

 _Mikey stared a long while as a fond smile spread across his face. "Since when are you so openly sentimental." He asked, trying not to let on how touched he was._

" _You know what they say: big brother's always watching."_

 _Mikey laughed. That sounded more like Leo: surveillance over sentiment. He sat beside his brother, watching their family below as they enjoyed a rare day in the sunlight, and noted an endearing glint in the elder's eyes._

 _Warmth radiated from Mikey's head to the tips of his toes. "It's a good view. I see why you like it." He scooted closer to his brother on the branch, draping an arm over his shell in an unabashed show of affection. "Thanks for sharing it with me, Leo!"_

 _The elder allowed himself to be hugged. "Just don't tell Raph. I'll never live it down."_

" _Turtle's honor!"_

Mikey suddenly found himself several yards from the tree, staring up at it's branches as snowflakes slowly fell around him. He stared and stared, his heart twisting into so many knots that it practically choked him.

And then the sound was back. Louder than before. Someone grunting. Mikey's eyes, glossy with fresh tears, finally focused in front of him. At the base of the tree. Someone…

"…Raph?"

The turtle in red stood hunched over a shovel, stabbing it into the ground and forcing up dirt to toss over his shoulder. He didn't have a coat or a blanket, and he was clearly cold—Mikey could see him shivering from where he stood—but sweat still trickled down his brow. The ground was frozen. Even Raph with his abundance of muscles couldn't pull up more than a fistful of dirt at a time. But that didn't seem to bother him.

He was determined.

Mikey watched as his brother speared the ground, teeth grit and muscles tense, wrenching the soil from it's home and casting it aside, repeating the process without pause. His breathing grew sharper and shorter, Mikey watched it puff in clouds in front of his mouth. Raph was tired, but not slowing down. Not stopping. If anything his fatigue only looked to spur him on.

Determined to dig.

Mikey could only watched.

Couldn't offer to help. Couldn't even make his presence known. Could only watch in silence as his older brother ran himself ragged trying to accomplish an impossible task.

His eyes—Raph's eyes that saw Leo when he— they hadn't changed at all since that night...

Mikey knew he should try and get him inside to warm up; at this rate he was going to get sick. Seriously sick. But he couldn't move… couldn't force himself to go near his older brother.

His _oldest_ brother.

Digging up death beneath that perfect tree.

Suddenly Mikey remembered the cold. He turned away and headed inside, not saying a word to anyone.

* * *

"Go home."

It wasn't unusual for Raph to sound angry. It wasn't unusual for him to be angry at Mikey. But even for angry Raph, the ice in his voice was chilling.

Yet his tone wasn't what was making Mikey's heart pound.

" _Stay." Leo's weak voice, barely above a whisper, boomed through the silence with strength he didn't posses in his battered state. It was only the second time he'd woken since they got to the farmhouse and his injuries hadn't had much time to heal yet. But still, he tried to comfort them…_

"Where are you going?" He finally asked, stepping out from his hiding space behind a chimney. His older brother didn't even bother to turn and acknowledge him. "Raph—"

"I said. Go. Home."

"No." Mikey stood his ground, sounding adamant despite the fear pumping through his veins. "If you're going out, I'm coming with you."

"No. You're not."

" _Alone… I can't… M'Not Enough." Leo blinked slowly, clearly fighting to stay conscious against the exhaustion clawing at his mind. It had been less than a day since he'd been thrown through April's window, and his brother's were still afraid. Afraid for him. But Leo knew how to help. "M'Only strong… when we're… together."_

"Yes I am." Mikey moved closer. "And you can't stop me."

"Oh really?"

The way his brother turned, his whole body dripping with malice and his empty eyes screaming rage, startled the younger turtle. He stepped back ever so slightly before taking a deep breath. "Yes. Really. I know you're hurting, Raph. We all are. But you can't do this alone. You need—"

"All I _need_ is to be left alone! You're not coming with—"

"The last time someone left on their own they died!" Mikey practically felt his brother's jaw clench and fists tighten, but there was no stopping him now. He narrowed his eyes, grateful his bandana hid the tears welling in them. "If you need to be out here, stomping out your grief, fine, but I'm coming with you, because I am _not_ gonna lose you too! I… I can't…"

Raph glared at the ground, suddenly very silent.

 _Leo made eye-contact with all three siblings, attempting to smile as he inhaled slowly. "Stay with me. Then we're… invincible."_

It was several minutes before Mikey finally got himself under control, steadying the tremble in his voice as he stepped closer to this brother. "So. Where are _we_ going?"

Together. Both of them. Leo said. They were stronger. Invincible.

Death couldn't touch them again.

 _Together._

* * *

I suppose we'll have to wait and see how far my muse decides to carry this. At least one more chapter.  
Suggestions/comments/critiques always welcome.

 _End of Line_

 _-TRAaP_

P.S- If you're confused by that last flashback, it was a reference to a previous oneshot I wrote titled "Invincible". I hope it made sense on it's own.


	6. Hindsight is

My muse has decided to take this story in a different direction than I'd thought. For one thing, it's going to be much longer than intended. At least another few chapters. At least. But I should warn you, I am overrun with work for the next while, so updates will be coming slow. Very slow. Most likely only once every 60 days. But I will do my best.

Thank you to those of you who have posted comments/reviews. I always appreciate your enthusiasm.

* * *

The light was gone.

The farmhouse, normally boisterous with activity and laughter, was silent and still as the night. The place where his children would come to be themselves, away from the worries of the city, had now become a crypt, encasing them in their own misery.

Splinter stood by as his children moved about like ghosts, barely talking or engaging with each other at all. Time was needed to let them grieve and work through this pain in their own ways, but that didn't make watching them stumble through their despair any easier.

Leonardo was usually quite good at brightening their spirits in such dark times.

A mournful sigh blew past Splinter's lips as he stoked the fire. He tamped his emotions down as far as he could, turning to his son sitting beside him. "Sit close, my son, and warm yourself." Michelangelo had come in from the barn feeling as cold as ice, and with Splinter's spirit as frail as it was, he couldn't help but fret and worry. "I shall fetch you some tea as well."

"No, I'm OK, Sensei."

No, he was not OK. He was in pain—the kind splinter couldn't take away with medicine or words of comfort. Splinter's eyes glanced from his son near the fire, to Donatello who sat on the couch with a gadget of some sort splayed out on the coffee table. Both looked exhausted beyond all measure, and while Splinter knew it wasn't the lack of sleep that was stealing their energy, he also knew he hadn't seen either of them eat since coming home the other night.

"My sons, you need to keep up your strength." He didn't need to look to know both his children sent their eyes to the floor. Best he chose his words carefully. "I understand your pain. Loss is the worst of all burdens to bear… but we must—"

"We know."

Splinter's eyes snapped to Donatello, who held his hands in fists, clearly attempting to keep a plethora of emotions in check. He noticeably felt the disrespect as potently as Splinter, immediately trying to soften his objection.

"Please, Sensei. We just… we know."

The old Father held his tongue, a pang gripping his chest at hearing the brokenness in his son's voice. A long silence stretched, tension mounting like pressure in a volcano. Finally, April—who had been sitting quietly beside Donatello, passing him parts and tools as he tinkered—stood, deciding now was a good time to make some tea. Just in case.

As she headed for the kitchen, she glanced around the room. "Has anyone seen Casey?"

"He's in the barn, with Leo…"

Splinter felt the way the name burned his youngest son's tongue, but he said nothing of it. "What about Raphael?"

April suddenly realized, "I haven't seen him since we got here." Which was several hours ago.

"He's probably out blowing off steam somewhere." Don offered, not taking his eyes from the objects in his hands.

Splinter glanced out the window, unable to see anything but the front lawn and a great expanse of trees. "Perhaps that is best for now." While he understood his son's need to vent his grief alone, the fear curling his fur demanded he keep all his children within arms reach. Where he could protect them.

" _Be careful, my sons."_

" _Hai, Sensei." Leonardo bowed, turning to take off with his brothers. It was their first mission topside—his first time leading!—and his excitement radiated like a heat wave. Which is why it caught Splinter by surprise when his eldest stopped, turned, and took his hand, looking him square in the eyes. "Don't worry, Sensei."_

 _Apparently Splinter hadn't been hiding his concern as well as he'd thought. But his fears were persistent and abundant. This was the first time they were leaving the safety of the sewers without their Father as a guardian, and Splinter's heart refused to quiet it's frantic pounding. If something happened to them…_

 _But Leonardo squeezed his hand tightly, determination blazing in his eyes. "I'll protect them. I promise."_

 _And to his own surprise, his heart stilled to a calm rhythm. Splinter nodded, placing a hand on his young son's shoulder. "I know, my son. I trust you." It was the pride that welled in Leonardo's spirit that made Splinter smile. He watched his son rush to catch his brothers, fear ever present, but ebbed in the wake of such intense conviction._

 _They had each other. They would be alright._

Grief settled in his stomach like a block of ice, freezing him inside and out. Splinter took his seat near the fire, resolved to keeping watch until Raphael returned.

April returned from the kitchen with a tray of mugs, handing them out to each turtle, refusing to take no for an answer. As she handed Splinter his cup, she looked out the window worriedly. "It's awfully cold out there. Are you sure we shouldn't go find Raph?"

Splinter followed her gaze, but all his eyes could see were visions of his son flitting before him.

" _Don't worry, Sensei."_

He needed to find focus, so he could be there for his remaining children. But memories of Leonardo refused to be ignored. They played in front of him like a parade, sending chills to the tips of each hair on his body, and pain like a knife staking his heart.

" _I'll protect them. I promise."_

Focus.

"If he is not back by nightfall, we shall find him."

April took one last forlorn look out the window before conceding and taking her spot beside Don.

Mikey huddled near the fire, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, not speaking a word.

* * *

Splinter wrung the water from the cloth, watching numbly as the blood dripped into the basin. The cloth was soaked with clean water once again, ready to continue it's task. A slight tremble of his hands went entirely unnoticed as he returned his focus to the table. With a feather's touch, he drew the clean rag over the red stains, rotating in small, focused circles, to pull the blood away. Every crack, every crevice, every divot would be spotless. Immaculate.

As his son would wish.

A tear rolled down Splinter's cheek as the visage of his son's face flashed before him. Those big blue eyes that were always looking to their father for approval. Looking to make him proud. Those blue eyes that held so much fear of failure.

Had his son known how well he'd done? Had he known how much his family respected and appreciated his efforts?

Had he known how proud Splinter was of him?

A hitch in his breath had Splinter pausing, clutching the cloth tightly as he tried to reign in his emotions. Now was not the time. His younger children were all on the verge of breaking, and the last thing they would need is to walk in and see their Father sobbing over their fallen brother.

Breathing deep, Splinter wiped the tears from his cheek and continued his task. The more blood he wiped away, the more scars became visible. And Splinter knew the origin and event of each one. A long gash along the back of his son's head brought a particularly horrific memory to mind: thunder crashing, glass falling like snow, and his son—his brave Leonardo—thrown through the window into a broken heap upon the floor. It had been the first time Splinter felt the true terror of his children's mortality. The first time one of his son's had been mortally wounded. The first time he'd almost had to contend with the fierce pain of losing one of his precious boys to an enemy's sword.

Almost.

His hand ran gently over the scar, caressing his son's head as he always did when they slept. "yoku nemuru, musuko."

" _Why do you do that, Dad?"_

" _Hm?" Splinter turned to a young Leonardo—no older than six—hiding behind the curtain of their makeshift bedroom. The poor child's worried eyes fell on his younger brother, starring as Raphael's chest rose and fell in an unsettlingly quick rhythm. Splinter stretched his arm out, inviting his son to his side, and slid his hand around the small shell. "Do what, my son?"_

" _You put your hand to his head and tell him to 'sleep well'."_

 _The earnest confusion in his eyes brought a slight smile to Splinter's lips. "Can a Father not dote on his children when they are sick?"_

 _Leonardo's eyes widened, as though he was afraid he'd been disrespectful. "No, I just… you do it to Mikey and Donnie too. Even when they're not sick. Why? Is it like a prayer? Does it keep them safe?"_

" _It is similar, I suppose." Splinter looked back to his younger child, head dripping with sweat as he continued to breathe rapidly. Thank heavens he'd managed to get the medicine in time. With any luck, that would be the last time he'd have to break into a pharmacy this winter. "It is said that those who know they are loved, sleep sounder, for they need not fear being alone. So I simply tell your brothers to sleep well."_

" _So… it's like 'I love you'."_

 _Splinter chuckled lightly. "Yes."_

 _Leonardo hesitated, fidgeting with Splinter's robe a moment before looking up to his father with bright blue eyes. "Do… Do you say it to me when I sleep?"_

 _Splinter was caught off guard. He looked down at this son—such intense worry on such a young face—and caught his eyes, staring at them intently. "Every night. Without fail."_

 _Leonardo, shrinking away at the seriousness in his Father's tone, averted his eyes. Feeling Splinter pull him closer, the young boy suddenly shot his arms around his Father's waist, clinging tightly. "I love you too, Dad."_

 _The joy that spread through Splinter's spirit was almost overpowering. It was an unexpected moment of tenderness, but he embraced it as tightly as he embraced his son._

" _Leo?" Donatello poked his head through the curtain, glancing at Raphael as he stepped in. "Is he OK?" He asked timidly._

" _Your brother will be alright with some rest. No need to worry."_

 _That was enough for Don. He didn't seem to want to look at Raph while he was sick, turning away rather quickly. "Leo, Mikey still thinks you're playing hide and seek. If you don't let him find you, he might wander off!"_

" _I'm coming!" Leo stepped from his Father's lap, about to follow his younger sibling, but paused by the curtain. He stepped back to Raphael's side, placing a gentle hand on his fevered head, and whispered, "Yoku nemuru, otōto." Then followed Donnie out the room._

 _Splinter smiled after his children, silently thanking the universe for gifting him with such a family. While it warmed his heart to hear his children speak their love for him, it was exponentially greater seeing them show it to each other. He rested his hand once more on Raphael's head, stroking it lovingly as he watched his son sleep._

 _Truly, he was blessed._

The tremble of his hand was impossible to still as it rested on the dome of Leonardo's head, caressing the cold skin. Emotions too powerful for him to combat rampaged through his body. Splinter grit his teeth, attempting to keep the pain in, but to no avail. A tear slipped from his eye, followed by another. And another. "Sleep well, my son. For you are so loved…"

Quiet sobs wracked the old Father as he held the cold body of his eldest child.

How could he have let this happen?

* * *

 _Splinter swept up the last of the dirt from the tatami mats, carefully placing the practice weapons back on the wall and clapping his hands together to rid them of the dust. Ordinarily, such chores were for his children, but they had been forced to leave in such a rush, Splinter was left to clean up after them. Not that he minded, his sons were very diligent in their chores, for the most part. And while Leonardo had offered to clean it when he returned from their mission, Splinter decided to do it himself._

 _They would be weary after their late night battle, he would rather have them come home and rest._

 _Glancing at the room one last time to make sure all was in place, Splinter closed the doors to the dojo and headed for the kitchen. It had only been an hour-and-a-half since his children had left, and yet for some reason his nerves were panicking at their absence. Odd, considering they were usually gone for most of the night._

 _Very odd, indeed. But nothing a cup of tea couldn't cure._

 _Plucking his tea from the cabinet, splinter boiled some water and steeped his beverage, enjoying the quiet of the evening. It was quite peaceful without his children mucking about and shouting at one another. Not that he minded their presence, but it was admittedly nice to have some time to himself. Just what his tense nerves needed in order to relax._

 _Settling down in front of the television, Splinter turned the channel to one of his favourite shows: a medical drama called "Greys Anatomy". He wasn't a fan of hospitals, particularly now that he was bound to the form of a giant rat and would likely be killed upon entering one, but relationships were a passion of his, and this drama provided many of those. And while the writing sometimes lacked imagination, he thoroughly enjoyed watching how each life affected the others._

 _Similar to how his boys touched the world, even from the shadows._

 _As the show began, Splinter idly wondered what jobs his children would have taken were they to be allowed in the public eye. Donatello would have made an excellent doctor, or engineer, or scientist. Perhaps NASA would have scooped him up and taken him away to—_

 _Splinter's tea cup fell to the floor, shattering into pieces with a crash as loud as a gunshot. He clutched his chest, not even noticing the broken glass, as a pain like a raging storm swept through his body. What on earth was—_

 _No… He knew this pain. Emptiness. Grief._

 _Loss._

 _Something had happened. Dear heavens, his children! Were they alright? Where were they!?_

" _Sensei…"_

 _Splinter looked up to see an apparition standing before him. "…Leonardo?"_

" _I'm sorry, Sensei."_

 _Splinter felt dread pounding on his chest. "My son, what has happened?_

 _But the apparition only knelt before him, bowing it's head in respect._

" _My son…?" Splinter couldn't form words. He watched as the ghostly form of his child bowed a moment longer before standing, a sad smile about his face._

" _Thank you for everything," It squared it's shoulders, waving a goodbye that pierced Splinter like an arrow. "Dad."_

 _As suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. And with it went Splinter's heart._

 _He fell to the floor, cutting his hand on a piece of broken glass as his tried to remember how to breathe. This pain… this raw, scraping pain… could it really be…?_

" _Leonardo…" Splinter breathed the name on a choked plea, eyes searching the room, frantically begging to see his son once more._

 _Fear pounded heavily in his heart as he ran for the telephone, dialling Leonardo's cell. No response. He tried again to the same effect. And again. He tried all his children's phone numbers, but none would answer. Calm. They would be home soon. Everything would be all right._

 _But even thirty minutes of waiting had proved to be agony. He could wait no longer. In his desperation, he grabbed his cloak and cane and headed for the door, but had only made it a few steps when there was sound over by the garage entrance. He moved with speed he shouldn't possess and met the Shellraiser as it's doors opened. "My sons!"_

 _They were home. Not to worry. Nothing but a figment of his imagin—_

 _Michelangelo stepped from the vehicle first, his whole body quaking and his face stained with tears._

" _Kodomo, what has happened?" But the youngest didn't look at Splinter. Didn't look away from his brothers as they walked from the vehicle, carrying something between them._

 _No… No, let it not be true._

" _Leonardo?"_

 _The two lay their eldest before their Father, Donatello's face a wash of grief and despair, and Raphael looking almost… hollow._

 _Splinter knelt beside the body, needing to feel the cold skin beneath his fingers to truly believe the sight before him. It could not be… His heart pounded, his throat closed, and his eyes stung. This could_ _ **not**_ _be! But his pleas fell on dead ears, the cold stillness remaining beneath his fingers, devoid of pulse, warmth, and life._

" _No…" Splinter placed a hand on Leonardo's chest, consumed by it's inactivity. No breath. No measured lungfuls of air as he did while training. No steady, controlled respiration as when he meditated._

 _Nothing._

 _Splinter's gaze drifted to his child's face. The blue bandana, smattered with feckles of blood, still adorned his head. His brows rested, eased from their tight posture which so often framed his eyes. No longer lined with worry._

 _He looked so at peace…_

" _Oh, my son." Splinter caressed the cold cheek before him, millions of desperate prayers overrunning his mind. "My Leonardo…"_

 _Gone. Forever._

Splinter closed his eyes, drawing in a careful breath as the pain of the memory washed over him.

Had he only known. He would have stopped them. Would have kept them at home. Would have forbade them from leaving the lair and kept them close. Safe.

The sight of his eldest child, covered in blood and pale as the moon, would forever haunt his days. His children's faces, consumed with fear, denial, and anguish, bobbed at the surface of his consciousness, striking at every unguarded moment.

The pain was ever constant. As it would always be.

Wafting the memory away, Splinter leaned forward, pressing his hands on his knees to anchor himself as he stood. His joints ached and his body was weary, his old age terribly apparent in the limp of his walk and the ever-growing hunch of his back.

He was tired. In the three months since his son's passing, Splinter had scarcely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would take him. Visions of Leonardo, dying in his arms and pleading for help. Of his younger three children suffering a similar, gruesome fate. Of being left alone, watching his family fall before him. Truth be told, such nightmares were hardly new. Splinter remembered vividly how terrified he'd been the first night his boys took off for the surface unaccompanied. He'd paced and meditated and cleaned incessantly, trying anything to keep his mind from jumping to the worst of scenarios. The first time one of them had come back injured, Splinter had spent the entire night watching over them as they slept, silently thanking every deity in existence that it was only a broken bone and not something life threatening. Even today, he was still haunted by his children's first encounter with Saki, and how close they'd come to death.

But this… this nightmare was a new beast entirely. Because this one was real. This time it hadn't all worked out in the end. This time, his son was taken. And there would be no relief of waking to find it all a dream.

Leonardo was truly gone.

A wave of sorrow crashed over him, and all Splinter could do was brace himself and breathe deep, waiting for the pain to ebb.

Had he only known…

Walking from the room, Splinter made his way to the main living area of the lair. The silence was maddening. What was once a vibrant space, full of life and excitement and the crazy antics of his children, was now lonely and destitute. Much a the cabin had felt when they buried Leonardo…

His children were not coping well with their loss. Of course it would take longer than three months to ease their grief, and he knew better than to try and force his own ways of dealing with loss on them. But he longed to have his family back...

What he wouldn't give to see Michelangelo smile and light up the room. To have Donatello rush around explaining his newest, brilliant creation. To hear Raphael in the throws of a hard workout while bantering back and forth with his brothers.

To see his Leonardo, practicing katas and honing his already exceptional skills.

Splinter sighed deeply, allowing the tear in his eye to fall before wiping it quickly from his fur and squaring his shoulders. His eldest was gone, his physical presence never again would grace the halls of this home. But his younger three children were still here. Their smiles, their dedication, their passion… he could see those once again. Given time… they just needed time.

Splinter gasped, his back arching as a sudden chill shot down his spine. Danger. His children were in danger! Aches and pains were suddenly irrelevant as the Father rushed through the lair, knocking on doors. He started with Donatello's lab, bedroom, the dojo, Michelangelo and Raphael's bedrooms, even Leonardo's.

Empty. His home was empty.

His children were gone!

* * *

I know it's a bit repetitive, but that's realistic, no?

Critiques/comments/corrections always welcome. And please let me know if the time jumping is too confusing.

End of Line.

-TRAaP


	7. It Takes a Village

Sorry for the delay, it's been hard finding time to myself. Who would have thought sleeping would be the thing to inhibit my writing.

In any case, here it is. I've already started the next chapter and hope to have it out by Halloween. Thank you, to those who are still following this little "one-shot", for your patience.

* * *

"Enough." Splinter whispered under his breath. He stood from his chair, hiding the shake of his arms at holding his weight, and looked to the door. "April, please keep an eye on things for me. I am going to look for Raphael."

"I can come with you."

"No." He spoke no more words, but the way he glanced from Don to Mikey told April everything she needed to know.

She nodded. "Ok. We'll keep an eye out from h—"

The front door was suddenly thrown open, cracking against the wall beside it. April nearly jumped out of her skin until she saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Raphael!" Splinter's voice was laced with worry. Even from where he stood he could see the slight tremble of his son's body shivering from the cold. He also noted the dirt and mud covering his son's hands and feet and crawling up to his forearms. There was also a heavy sheen of sweat trickling down his brow. Where on earth had he…

The very moment Splinter's mind fit the pieces together, Raphael looked towards him. The way his brow knit together in a scowl framing the complete hollowness of his eyes… it was chilling.

It was agonizing.

"Raphael…" Splinter started towards his son, grabbing up the blanket from his chair, when the red bandana broke his look and abruptly headed towards the stairs.

"Wait, Raph, you should—" April tried to stop him, but Splinter placed a gentle paw on her shoulder, holding her back.

"Leave him." He kept his voice steady, and his eyes on the stairs his son had just stormed up. He wanted nothing more than to run after his boy, hold him close, and tell him everything would be alright. To comfort in any and every way possible. But his eyes… the sheer emptiness in them. Splinter hadn't seen eyes like that since his wife had been taken from this world. When he'd felt helpless. Alone.

Guilty.

And Splinter knew his son better than to try and impose comfort on him when he was in such a state. Forcing himself to stand tall—and remain still, despite every fatherly instinct to the contrary—he gave April's shoulder a light squeeze for reassurance before returning to his chair to watch over his other two sons.

April stared after Raph a moment longer. "But shouldn't we—"

"In time." They could comfort him in time. But right now, such efforts could result in pushing him further away. "For now, allow him solitude."

April sighed, conceding. Perhaps she'd sneak him some hot tea or something later, if he didn't come down before sunrise. She looked to Don, who had hardly flinched at the activity, entirely enwrapped in his tinkering. Then to Mikey, who had kept his shell to the door as soon as Raph had entered, and now stared at the fire, almost glaring at it.

Her heart suddenly felt heavier. This wasn't right. None of this was right…

Mikey suddenly stood, wrapping his blanket tight around his shoulders and heading for the door. He said nothing, only stopped to glance at the stairs before leaving the cabin and abruptly slamming the door closed behind him.

* * *

"GET DOWN!"

The words barely left Raph's mouth before he was hurling his body into his baby brother's side, throwing him out of the way of a grenade that burst several feet in front of them. The two shakily attempted to stand, but as Mikey was still getting his bearings, a purple dragon stalked toward him, gun in hand, and smirk on his face. Raph forced himself up between the two, his sai raised and death in his eyes. He lunged before the gunman could raise his weapon, spearing him through the hand and tackling him into the nearest wall.

Mikey gawked as Raph barely bat an eyelash at the vicious assault, dusting himself off as he headed back, offering the younger a hand. "You OK?"

"Yeah." Mikey gave his head a good shake to chase away the dizziness. "I think so." Though he must have hit his head harder than he thought, because Raph sounded like he was actually scared.

"Let's get out of—"

A sharp cry bellowed from Raph's throat, his hand snapping to cover the source of the pain now scorching through his shoulder. Mikey's eyes widened in pure terror as he realized his brother had been shot. "Raph!"

But his brother was already in front of him, throwing him away from the barrage of bullets that followed. By the time Mikey righted himself enough to sit up, he saw Raph stab his sai through the new gunman's arm, twisting until he dropped the weapon. Thank God. But the man drew a club from behind his back, and before either turtle could react, he clocked it as hard as he could across Raph's head. The older ninja reeled, backing into the wall. He tried keeping himself upright, but dizziness was clearly winning the battle, bringing him slowly down to a knee.

Mikey was frozen. Couldn't remember how to move. Think.

He saw the man pick up his gun with his good hand. Watched as he strode towards his brother with a murderous smirk.

" _L-Leo!" Mikey could feel himself shaking. "Don, you have to do something! Leo's not breathing! You have to—"_

 _Oh god…_

" _LEO!"_

Adrenaline finally spurred Mikey on, pulling him from the memory into action. But he was too slow. The man was already levelling his gun at Raph's head. At this rate he'd be too late to— "RAPH!"

A loud crack rang out and Mikey's heart felt like it stopped, but his feet didn't. He kept going until he was by his brother's side, skidding to a halt just before he hit the wall. His eyes, frantic and terrified, finally understood what they were witnessing.

Donatello stood in front of their brother, towering over the body of the fallen purple dragon he'd just attacked. The crack had been his bō against bone. Not a gunshot. Raph wasn't—

"Raph!" Mikey fell beside his brother, immediately catching sight of the blood running through his fingers and down his arm.

Not again. Please… Please, not again!

"Can you stand?" Donnie was quickly in front of them both, offering his hand.

Mikey could barely keep himself from full on panic. "Don, he's bleeding!"

" _He's bleeding and he's not breathing! You have to—"_

"—Go."

Mikey shook his head as Don hoisted him to his feet.

"Mikey, it's OK. Raph's gonna be fine. But we have to go _now_."

The youngest turtle's mind was frozen, leaving his body to work by instinct. He cradled his shoulder under Raph's good arm to help keep the older turtle steady, and stood ready to leave.

"Follow me."

Mikey knew it was Donnie speaking. His brain registered the purple mask and the glasses and the higher vocal tone, but his eyes saw what they were used to. What they needed in that moment. And his words followed. "Right behind you, Leo."

* * *

The snow had stopped, but the air still felt cold. It didn't look like the weather was going to turn as predicted. Perhaps it would warm up over night, but somehow April doubted that. The ground was definitely still frozen. If Splinter was right—and he usually was—Raph must have been out there for hours digging…

Her hands curled around her arms, tightening their fold as she stood silently by the fire. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but stare at those around her. Don still sat with his drone, fitting pieces together and closed off to everything in the world around him, Splinter was in his chair, looking older and more burdened than she'd ever seen him, and Mikey had presumably gone back and sit in the barn. She'd have to remember to bring him something to keep warm. The last thing they needed was everyone catching a cold.

" _You'd make a great mom, April."_

" _What?" She turned to stare at the blue bandana in surprise. "Where did that come from?"_

 _The turtle shrugged as he helped her put away the supplies into the cupboards. "Mother's Day was on Sunday. It made me think of you."_

" _You're just saying that because I'm the only female in your immediate family circle." She countered coyly._

" _True. We don't have a mom."_

 _April's face sunk immediately. "I didn't mean... That's not what I…"_

" _But you're more than just any female. You make sure Don eats when he's obsessing over an experiment, you're patient with Mikey when he's been cooped up too long with too much caffeine, and you even manage to talk Raph down from a temper tantrum every now and again. You make sure we're warm in the winter, cool in the summer, you're always here with medicine when we get sick, and you're always willing to listen when we feel down. And if you can handle all the insane drama the four of us throw at you, I'm sure human kids would be much less of a challenge."_

 _April had abandoned the can of soup she'd been putting away, turning to stare at her friend with wide eyes. "I… I still don't see the connection." She did. But the adulation had surprised her, so she had to deflect._

" _Mikey was talking about what it would have been like to have a mom, and we all concluded that if we had one, we'd hope she'd have been like you."_

 _April was speechless. The compliment made her heart flutter more than she would have expected. So again, she tried to avoid the subject. "Are you calling me a den mother? Because I am certainly no Wendy to your lost boys."_

 _She saw her friend smile slightly. "Of course not. I just meant that it's your nurturing spirit, not your femininity, that makes us think you'd be a good mom. Besides, according to Raph, I'm the only den mother around here."_

 _April couldn't help but giggle. She stared at her friend a long minute, really letting his words settle. Now that things were getting serious with Casey, the thought of children had certainly crossed her mind, but she'd always ignored the idea out of sheer practicality; what in her life of vigilantes and computer science made her the ideal candidate to be a mother? She wouldn't have the first clue how to parent a child. But then, she'd never considered how much her turtle family had prepared her for such a task. They did have a way of bringing out parts of her she never knew existed._

 _Perhaps… Perhaps it wasn't such a ridiculous notion after all._

 _She smiled._

 _The moment swept her away, and she found herself wrapping her arms around the turtle's shell, hugging him from behind. "Thanks, Leo. That means a lot."_

" _What are den mothers for?"_

Nausea rumbled in April's stomach as an ache settled on her heart like an anvil. She turned away to face the fire and stare at the flames dancing. She needed a distraction. Needed something to take her mind off it before her heart exploded in her chest. Where was—

"Hey,"

April's head snapped to the front door where Casey now stood, timidly peering at Donnie before turning his gaze to her. Try as she did, she couldn't hide the anguish in her features. He was by her side in an instant.

"Babe."

Thick arms braced around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug that she needed but couldn't unfold her arms to accept. She just stood against Casey's chest, her head resting on his jacket, arms still curled around themselves. They stayed that way for several minutes before Casey's gaze finally turned his eyes to the stairs.

"Mike says he dug it by himself."

April nodded slowly.

"Maybe I should go—"

"He needs his space. He'll come down when he's ready."

"I'm not too sure about that." Casey peered at Don's distant eyes and Splinter's sagging shoulders before staring up the stairs again. "I should—"

"Please." Finally able to unfold her arms, April wrapped them around his neck, burying her face as deep into his coat as she could. "Just stay here a minute longer."

"Ok." Casey let out a long sigh. He placed a hand on her head and held her closer, stroking her hair gently. "Ok."

* * *

He couldn't stop shaking.

They were a good distance from the fires of the warehouse, safely moving away from the sirens, and easily in the clear of any gang members who might have tried to follow. But Mikey couldn't keep himself from trembling. His whole body. Not just his hands. Everything. Maybe it was his close encounter with death moments ago. Maybe it was the gun shots he could still hear ringing in his ears. Maybe it was that Don had been completely silent since saving their shells at the warehouse.

Or maybe it was because every drop of blood that dripped from Raph's shoulder made Mikey's heart beat faster. What if Donnie couldn't fix the wound? What if they couldn't get him home in time?

What if they lost him too?

Mikey's legs gave out from under him. He tripped, nearly taking Raph down with him, but Donnie was there to ease them both to the ground. The orange-banded turtle offered an apologetic glance before going to help his brother up again. But Don stopped him.

"But he's hurt!" Mikey protested. "Shouldn't we get back home to—"

"I need to see how bad it is before we move him more." Don quickly assured, adjusting his glasses before gently inspecting Raph's injured arm.

The silence was enough to drive Mikey mad. He held himself together for as many minutes as possible, but fear was getting the better of him. Why wasn't Don saying anything!? What was he doing? The last time he did this…

A wave of pain and pure terror swept through Mikey so quickly, he didn't have time to process his own movement. He wrapped himself around Raph's chest, squeezing—holding on—as tight as he could.

"Ow! Mik—"

"Don't! You can't! You can't die too! Leo's still gone and we're still a mess and we can't lose anyone else! Please, Raph, you can't—" His teeth clamped suddenly shut, holding in an anguished sob. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, despite his best efforts.

Mikey had no idea how long he sat there crying, clinging to his injured brother, but it felt like an eternity and no time at all. A hand to his shoulder finally brought his eyes up, red and puffy and anguished as they were, to meet Don's, staring gently back at him.

"He's OK, Mikey. Raph'll be fine. The bullet didn't hit anything vital. The most he'll have is a nasty scar and limited movement on that side for a few weeks."

Don's eyes were nothing but compassionate. Honest. He wasn't trying to make it sound better than it was. He wasn't lying. Raph was going to be alright.

 _Mikey shot Don a pleading, betrayed look. "You said he was fine!"_

"…You're sure? What about his head? He got hit really bad…"

"It wasn't—" Raph tried to mumble before Don interjected.

"He's slightly concussed, but no major damage. After he's bandaged and hopped up on Advil, he'll be just fine." Don must have seen the fear still leaking from Mikey's eyes, because he gave his shoulder a light squeeze and added "I promise."

Mikey glanced up at Raph, who's gaze was solidly fixed on the ground. "OK…" Raph hated being the center of attention when he was hurt, so staring at the ground out of embarrassment was normal. Which meant he would be alright. 'Cause he was acting normal, and he wouldn't do that if he was dying, right? Right. So they'd get him home and patch him up and everything would be OK. Nothing to worry about.

" _Leo's hurt, we have to get to Raph."_

" _What? Is he Ok?"_

 _Don nodded. "I'm sure he'll be fine, but I need to get there and see for myself."_

Mikey still couldn't stop shaking.

* * *

Knock. Knock.

Silence.

Not that he expected anything different, but Casey rapped his hand on the door again, listening intently for any sign of movement on the other side. Nothing. He sighed audibly. "Come on, Raph, I know you're in there." He waited patiently—or at least patiently for Casey—before finally giving up the pretence of politeness, no longer holding out for an invitation to enter the room. "I'm comin' in." He announced blandly, slowly creaking the door ajar to peer inside. All the blinds were pulled, shrouding the suite in darkness despite the few rays of light from the setting sun snaking their way through every crack and crevise available. Casey's eyes adjusted quickly, and he stopped when he noticed the bed overturned in the corner, clearly thrown there in a fit of rage.

Leo's bed.

So that's how it was going to be then.

Gathering himself as he closed the door, Casey made his way across the wreckage of sheets and pillows to find Raph on the floor in the darkest corner of the room, shell leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees tucked into his chest, and as far away from Leo's tossed bed as possible.

Casey didn't bother with a greeting or asking any questions. Didn't bother with small talk or attempting the "we're here for you, man" speech. He knew it would fall on deaf ears. Because he knew this type of self-destruction. Intimately. He knew talking wasn't going to help. Not Now. Not yet. He picked up a blanket from one of the other siblings beds and draped it over Raph's shell, fully expecting it to be thrown aside immediately.

The red bandana didn't even flinch.

Good. Sort of. At least Casey could make sure he warmed up. From what April told him, Raph had been out in the cold a long while, and experience had taught him that cold blood and cold weather don't mix too good.

He lowered himself against the wall beside his friend, making sure to keep enough space between them so they weren't touching, and sat. As his eyes roamed from Raph's scowling face to the sais held tightly in his fists, he made a note not to make too many sudden moves. Wouldn't want 'getting skewered in a fit of depression fuelled rage' added to the list of horrifyingly emotional scenarios they were going to have to wade through tomorrow.

Which is what this was. Or what Casey assumed it was. Depression fuelled rage. Same thing he'd felt when he lost his mom. Difference was, cancer took his mom, not a thug. Illness stole his family, not some cowardly asshole with a gun. Raph was still the only one who knew what really happened on that roof, but Casey was sure of two things: it wasn't Raph's fault, and Raph was blaming himself for it. Casey's mom had been taken by a disease and he'd still felt responsible for not finding some way to save her. He could only imagine what it must feel like when it was a skilled ninja vs a weapon.

Someday Raph might want to talk about it. Someday he might need a sounding board for his rant about how much of a crapshoot this whole situation was, and how much it hurt to have watched it all happen, and how hard it was going to be to move on. But that day was not today.

Raph and him, they were cut from the same cloth. They felt the same overpowering anger controlling their lives, the same craving for violence, and the same passion for justice. They worried about the same things and refused to admit that their anger came from fear of losing what they loved.

Which is why Casey knew. Today wasn't a day for talking. Wasn't a day to make anything right, or help anyone feel better. Wasn't a day to grieve, and wasn't a day to even think about moving on.

Today was about sanity. About furiously clinging to anything solid, and holding onto the rage for dear life. Because the rage was familiar. The rage made sense. And once it was gone, the pain would set it. And they'd do anything to avoid the pain.

It was a theory, anyway. Casey couldn't know for sure. Their situations had been drastically different, as had their ages. It was possible the hollow look in Raph's eyes wasn't pent up anger, but something else entirely. It was possible he was experiencing this all in a way Casey couldn't understand and he was only making assumptions to help himself cope with seeing his friend so broken (damn if some of Donnie's psychological mumbo-jumbo hadn't rubbed off on him…). But whatever the case, he sat. Silent and still.

In the dark of the room, Casey stared at the toppled bed, thinking of the person who'd slept in it and how gut-wrenching it was that he'd never sleep in it again.

Stupid. Some cowardly-ass, ignorant thug gets off one lucky shot…

His anger flared in an instant. He glanced once more from his shivering, hollow, friend, gripping his sai for dear life, to the last vestiges of sunlight setting behind the curtains, and could think of only one thing to describe the whole situation. So he said it with feeling.

"Shit."

* * *

Don's fingers carefully grazed over Raph's shoulder once more, checking the severity of the injury. Just a flesh wound. Through and through. Heavy bleeding, but nothing internal. No organ damage, and too close to the shoulder bone to have hit a major vein or artery. Nothing a few stitches couldn't solve.

Minor. Not life threatening. The bullet wouldn't kill him. Not like—

 _Don couldn't even see the wound itself through all the gushing blood. He wiped the rain from his eyes—was it the rain? When had it started?—and did his best to inspect the bullet hole. But between the weather, the lack of light, and the fact that his heart was pounding too loudly for him to focus on anything else, he couldn't find much._

 _Not that he needed to. He knew the truth. Knew it almost from the moment he'd gotten Raph's phone call._

 _There was nothing they could have done._

"M'Fine."

Raph's annoyed tone cut through Don's thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Back to the terror he'd felt when he realized Raph had left the lair. Back to the shock that Mikey had gone with him. Back to the paralyzing dread that his remaining siblings could be laying on some rooftop, injured and bloody, with no help on the way.

Dying. Alone.

Don's feet had never moved so fast in his life. He was out the lair and leaping rooftops for several minutes before his mind had a chance to remind him to turn on Mikey's shellcell GPS. By the time he'd made it to the docks, the warehouse was already on fire, and Don's fears choked him with all the ways it said his brothers could have been killed already.

And then he spotted them. Saw Raph take a hit. Saw a man level a gun at his head.

He honestly couldn't remember what happened next. He'd felt his pulse spike, his dread thicken, and his anger rise, and suddenly he was in front of his brothers, telling them they needed to leave and ignoring the thug lying in a heap behind him.

"Raph, don't!" Mikey's plea as his brother tried to stand brought Don back to the present, but went unheeded by their injured sibling.

"I'm f—"

Raph's hand was back to clutching his head, and the two younger turtles were both already in front of him, helping lower him back to the ground.

"Dude, take it easy."

Raph only growled in response, once again clearly annoyed at being the one injured. And Don suddenly felt his anger rise. Mikey continued to fuss over Raph, who continued to try standing with little success. But Don couldn't move.

His fists clenched tight, his jaw set hard, and he could practically feel his blood boiling beneath his skin.

"Come on," Mikey scooped under Raph's shoulder, once again balancing him as he prepared to leave. "We should get home."

"Why bother?" Don finally stood, turning his shell to his brothers and clenching his fists tight. "Out here's where you wanted to be, right? Out in the middle of all this violence and hatred and death." He looked out over the distance, glaring at the fire of the warehouse. "This is what's important to you. The fight. The battle. That's what you care about. Not your family, not your brothers, not even your own safety!"

Raph didn't say a word, but a pang of guilt stung Mikey as he heard the anger in his brother's tone. "We're sorry, Don. We didn't—"

"Why else would you run off into the night without a word to anyone, without telling us where you were going or letting us come to help? Why else would you disobey Sensei's orders, knowing full well he set them in place because he's terrified of losing another child?"

"Don—"

"Why else would you be so blatantly ignorant to the people around you and how the past few months might be affecting them?"

"Don, please, we didn't mean—"

"He told you not to go!" Don whirled on his brothers—on Raph—eyes flickering with anger and fear gripping his muscles.

" _I told him not to leave."_

Again. How could he do it again? After everything that'd happened, everything they were still trying to work through, how could he? Why didn't he learn!? "Why do you do it? Why do you go off alone like that? Why do you insist on leaving us all behind!? You know it's dangerous to go alone, and yet you always do! You always disobey!" Hands balled into fists and anger spilling like hot lava, Don couldn't stop himself. "He told you not to go, and you left! Why didn't you just listen for once!? Why didn't you follow orders!? If you hadn't left, he might still be—"

An explosion in the distance cut him off, drawing all three turtle's attention. The warehouse looked like it collapsed, sending up plumes of smoke into the air. The fire was under control, only embers remaining as the pile of rubble slowly burned itself out.

Don turned back to his siblings, resentment and fury still writhing to get out. But the moment had passed. Raph's head was still leaking blood and Sensei was sure to notice they'd all left and was going to lock them in the lair for the rest of their lives. They needed to get back. "…Come on. Sensei's probably worried."

"Dee, wait." Mikey easily saw the pain fuelling his brother's anger. He understood. But there hadn't been time to go back for him or Raph might have left on his own. And what they'd come out here for was important. Necessary. "We're sorry." He turned to Raph, hoping for a head nod or something to indicate his remorse, but received none. So he quickly continued. "It was for a good reason. We had to come for it. They'd mounted it to the wall like some kind of trophy. We _had_ to take it back."

Don kept his shell to them, unable to look for fear he'd give in to Mikey's pleading eyes and forgive them when he was still far too angry to do so. "Take what back?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"This."

Raph's solid voice jarred Don slightly. He gave in, turning to see what his brother held out to him. "Is… Is that…?"

It couldn't be. In his adrenaline fuel panic, he must not have noticed. How could he not have noticed?

Coal black saya, gold-tinted oval tsuba, and ocean blue cord wrapped about the hilt.

Leonardo's katana.

* * *

Last week marked my second year anniversary of writing fanfictions. Somehow it feels like longer.

As always, please feel free to let me know if anything is unclear (particularly with how much back and forth there is in this chapter).

Comments/Critiques/Suggestions always welcome.

-TRAaP


	8. Hard Truth

This chapter is hereby dedicated to Stan Lee. A true storyteller.

* * *

" _Is he gonna be OK Sensei?" Mikey asked sheepishly, almost afraid to hear the answer._

" _Only time will tell." Was Splinter's vague reply as he adjusted the blanket under his eldest son's chin._

 _But the worry in their father's eyes did little to alleviate Mikey's fear._

" _He'll be fine." Raph piped in with a grouchy snort. "Ain't no way Leo'll let a bunch of Foot keep him down for good."_

 _Mikey nodded, liking the sentiment. But Leo's face looked so bruised and cut up… he'd never been hurt this bad before._

 _Placing a hand on Leo's shoulder, Mikey stared at his unconscious older brother. "We're here, Leo. And we still need you. So pull yourself together and get better, Okay?"_

 _An unexpected groan slipped from Leo's lips, and Mikey couldn't help but grip his shoulder tighter._

" _Do not fear, my son." Splinter rested a paw on top of Michelangelo's, wiping as much of the worry from his eyes as he could. "Your brother is still fighting. He will find a way back to us."_

 _Mikey nodded, eyes fixed on his eldest brother. He had to be okay. He had to. Leo was the best fighter, the best strategist, the best at using swords—he was their leader. He was the most responsible and unbeatable guy Mikey knew (except for Sensei)._

 _Without him… what on earth were they supposed to do?_

"It's the same as last time. Last time, we were all scared and we huddled around you and we begged and we prayed and we told old stories to give you something to hold onto. Last time, we had hope you would be okay because you're Leo and you never give up. Last time… Last time you woke up. You opened your eyes and you healed and everything was back to normal." Placing a hand on the black bag in front of him, Mikey hesitated over the zipper. Casey was back inside, Don was lost in reconstructing his drone, and Sensei and April were focused on Raph when Mikey'd left, so no one was going to walk in and stop him.

Just one more look. Maybe his eyes would be open. Maybe he'd be OK. Maybe he'd pull off one of his crazy last minute come-backs. It's not like this was the first time Leo'd been "dead" before. They thought they'd lost him lots of times over the years. In explosions, fires, spaceships, even alternate dimensions. What if this was all part of some crazy plan Leo'd hatched up to take down the Purple Dragons?

What if…

"My son."

Michelangelo's hand pulled sharply back under his blanket. If Sensei saw—and Mikey was sure he did—he didn't say anything. Just quietly sat down, folding his legs beneath him, his robe brushing Mikey's blanket.

Silence descended.

Mikey gulped as he stared at the black bag before him. Stared and waited. Maybe it would move. Maybe it was all a trick. A nightmare. Maybe he'd wake up and find Leo sitting by his bed—because he somehow knew when Mikey was having a bad dream—waiting to comfort and reassure him. Maybe…

Sensei didn't speak. Didn't move. Just sat there, staring at Leo—the bag—with no expression on his face.

Mikey felt like he should say something. But what? The only thoughts in his head were of memories long past or denial of the present. "He didn't suffer." The words had tumbled from his lips so quickly, he scarcely recognized he'd been the one to utter them. He didn't need to look to know Splinter's gaze was now on him. Mikey shuddered in a breath. "It was barely twenty minutes from the time Raph called to the time we got to the roof. Don said with where the bullet hit—" his breath hitched involuntarily. Why was he saying any of this? Leo could still be— "He bled out quickly."

Splinter sighed a low breath through his nose, but remained silent. Mikey was shivering visibly by now. He didn't feel cold. Just numb. "Twenty minutes…" And the words kept coming. He couldn't stop them. "That would have been enough time to get him home. If we'd have left right away, it would have been enough time…" Leo could still be alive. He could still… it was a trick. An elaborate rouse for another one of Leo's crazy plans. He could… "We could have… if we'd just…" He held his breath, trying to hold the words in like he would a sneeze. But they blurted out of him all the same.

"He can't really be gone, Sensei! He's too important! He's too smart and too skilled and too… too good! Good people don't just die like that! He can't be gone. We had enough time to save him. Why didn't we save him!? He can't be—we still need him—he wouldn't just leave like that! It's a trick. It has to be." His hand shot forward to grab the zipper of the bag, fully determined to prove his theory right. Leo was alive somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to make a miraculous return. He was—

In the blink of an eye, Mikey's hand was pulled away from the zipper, and his face buried in his Sensei's robe, an arm around his shoulder. clasping his shell in a firm hug. "My son. Your brother is—"

"NO! No he's not! He's not gone! He can't be! He wouldn't—"

"He gave his life—"

"No!"

"—Protecting what he loved."

"NO!"

Mikey shoved Splinter aside, grabbing the zipper and yanking it open. His desperation turned to horror as he starred at the sallow skin and closed eyes. The blue bandana. The leather hilted katana.

Leo.

A wail bubbled in Mikey's throat, starting low as he stared and stared and…

It was really Leo. He really left.

His lament grew louder and louder, tears pouring down his cheeks. His heart throbbed so hard, he was sure he was dying.

Not a nightmare. No last minute save. He was… he was really…

"My son." Warm arms wrapped around Mikey's quaking body, pulling him close. This time, Mikey didn't move to push him away. He wrapped his own arms around his father's body, clinging to him for dear life.

"He can't be… Sensei, he's… He can't…"

Leo couldn't be dead.

* * *

Splinter's heart was beating out of his chest. His legs moved so swiftly beneath him, he'd nearly tripped thrice as he flew from roof to roof. And his nerves ignited ever more the moment he spotted the smoke.

His sons were there. He knew. They were always in the middle of the fire.

Barely a heartbeat later he was standing adjacent to the smouldering pile of wood and concrete that used to be a warehouse, eyes searching in constant desperation for three green shells.

Nothing. No sign of them. No proof they'd been here other than the flames. What if they…

No. He would know. He'd have felt it. The empty void in his soul would have swallowed him entirely.

Focus. Don't panic. They were alive. Where would they have escaped? Underground or—

His eyes narrowed on a small blot of blood speckled on the far ledge of the roof. The limited trail continued to the edge, and as Splinter jumped to the adjacent building, he found more. They were alive. Injured, but alive.

Splinter forced himself to breathe. Think.

If they were injured, they were surely headed home. The sirens had all died down which meant they weren't pursuing anything, but staying with the burnt building, so his sons should be clear to find a sheltered alley and duck into the sewers. And there were no other tracks on the roof to indicate an enemy following behind.

They would head home by the safest route, which was the sewers. Unless their injuries were great, in which case they would opt for speed, sticking to the rooftops as much as possible. Either way, if Splinter doubled back, he would surely meet them en route, or at the very least at home.

His feet were already in flight before the thought landed.

They were alive. Injured, but alive.

Possibly dying.

He picked up his speed.

* * *

" _Ow! That hurts!"_

" _Mikey, I haven't even touched you yet."_

" _Oh." Mikey tensed his body, waiting with bated breath as his brother approached with the needle again. "Wait!"_

" _Will you quit being such a child and sit still!"_

" _Newsflash bro: I AM a child! And so are you! You're ten years old, Don, how do you know how to use a needle?"_

" _The same way I knew how to fix that N64 in the living room: I read about it." Don lifted the needle once more._

" _OW!"_

" _Still haven't touched you." Don groaned, washing a hand over his face before looking to Leo with exasperation. "Will you keep him still, please? I can't give him his shot with him moving around and shouting every time I look at him."_

" _I don't want a shot!" Mikey pled. "Raph's the one who's sick, why do I need a shot!?"_

" _Because flu's are contagious, and you'll get sick if you don't. Besides, Sensei had to go to a lot of trouble to get this stuff, we can't let it go to waste."_

" _But Donnieeeeeee!" Mikey widened his eyes and pouted his lip, attempting to sway his brother with his innocent face._

 _Don rolled his eyes and looked to Leo once more. "You see what I have to deal with?"_

 _The older turtle's lip quirked up in a grin and he shook his head in amusement. The minute he was close enough, Mikey grabbed his arm with both hands, holding on for dear life._

" _Please don't make me do it, Leo! I think I'd rather get sick! What's a little runny nose compared to a giant needle!?"_

" _It's a lot more than that, Mike. It's a cough and nausea and a bad fever." Mikey gave him a 'so?' shrug, so Leo elaborated. "Fevers are dangerous, Mikey. Especially to us." Don noticed him glance at the door. "And do you really want to be nauseous? You couldn't eat pizza for a week at least."_

 _Mikey was aghast. "A WEEK!?" He looked from Leo to Don to the needle and couldn't help but inch away from the pointy object. "But… But…"_

 _Leo moved behind him, holding his shoulder with one hand and holding out the other in offering. "Just squeeze my hand if it hurts. I promise it will be over quick."_

 _Mikey pouted but nodded in defeat. "Ok. But if I turn into some sort of monster because Dee mixed the medicine wrong, I'm coming for you two first."_

 _Don rolled his eyes as Leo gripped his brother's shoulder tighter. "I've got you, Mikey. Nothing's going to happen."_

 _It was the calm of his brother's eyes that really hit home. Mikey nodded, held out his arm, and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ok, Dee, do it. I'm ready for it. Just do it quick and get it over wi—"_

" _Done."_

 _Mikey stared at his arm as his brother placed a He-Man bandaid over the area. "That was it?"_

" _Yup."_

" _Well why didn't you just do that to begin with? We could have been done a long time ago. Jeeze, Dee!"_

 _Don face-palmed and turned away from his brother, silently trying to calm himself down._

" _So are we done? Can I go now?"_

 _Leo nodded. "Just remember to keep the noise down. Raph needs his rest."_

" _You got it, bro!" Mikey zipped out, heading for the living room. A moment later, he popped his head back through the door, finding his eldest brother's eyes. "Hey Leo."_

" _Hm?"_

 _In the blink of an eye he was at his brother's side, wrapping his arms around his waist and hugging tight. "Thanks." And he was gone again._

 _Leo shook his head._

" _Why will he listen to you and not me?" Don griped, placing the needle down and putting away the small vial of medicine._

" _Because I'm the wise older brother with a calming voice, and you're the mad scientist with a needle."_

 _Don couldn't help a small laugh at how accurate that probably was to Mikey's thought process. He turned back to his older brother, who was staring at the door again. "He's gonna be okay." Leo glanced at him, prompting Don to continue. "His fever's already going down and his stomach is settling enough that he can have broth. I'm sure he'll be back to punching walls by the end of the week."_

" _I know."_

" _Then why the face?"_

" _I just…" Leo sighed. "I don't know, Don. Anytime you guys are sick, I get this feeling in my stomach like I wanna throw up, but don't. What would you call that?"_

" _Anxiety?"_

" _Yeah."_

 _Don nodded. It made sense, but there really was nothing to worry about. Raph was through the worst of it, he just needed sleep and he'd be fine. …Right? "…Do you wanna go check on him? Just to make sure he's not too cold."_

 _Leo couldn't have nodded faster. "Okay."_

Don fiddled with a screw he couldn't seem to tighten properly.

Even when they were young, Leo'd always been anxious. Always been worried.

He loosened the screw, realigned it, and tried again, finally successful in his attempt. He picked up the next one, twisting it into place with delicate precision.

But back then he was more open about. Before he was made leader, he opened up to Don all the time: about his insecurities, about his fears, about… anything.

Another screw in place, Don reattached the wires he'd cut, slowly making sure everything was put together the way it was meant to be.

Back then, Leo'd play games with them all the time, he'd run around the lair with wild abandon, and he'd even been known to pull a prank or two (so long as it wasn't on Sensei).

Adjusting the plastic edging around the propellers, Don spun them to make sure they were centered and fastened.

Back then Leo was free. Free to be himself. To play and explore and make mistakes. Then they grew up.

Grasping the screen by the edges, Don placed it over the camera lens and used a q-tip to clean it and press it gently into place.

Suddenly Leo had responsibility. He had to take care of everyone. He had to lead. Be an example. Be perfect.

The panel was placed on top over the new circuitry, carefully screwed and glued so it would remain where it should, despite it's dented, slightly deformed shape.

He no longer opened up. He no longer let his brothers see the cracks in his flawless persona. He closed off. To keep them same. To keep them from worrying. To protect them from his fears.

Flipping over to lay on it's back, Don attached the legs, standing it up to make sure they were even and secure.

But Don had always wondered… if Leo had been anxious when they were kids, how much worse had it gotten when they grew up? How difficult it must have been to deal with.

A quick test proved the lights, the propellers, and the camera were all working smoothly.

He'd always wondered what kind of a toll leadership took on his eldest brother. …Now he knew.

Everything was in perfect order. Completely rebuilt. Even improved upon.

Leadership had taken his life.

Don placed his finished drone on the table, turning it off to preserve battery power. All the parts that had been strewn about on the coffee table had disappeared to create this machine. It had taken him all evening, but he'd done it. Without the help of his tools from home.

He'd fixed it. So why… why did it still hurt? Why did his chest still tighten when he breathed? Why did his stomach still churn? Why did his mind shut down every time he thought of…

" _I've got you. Nothing's going to happen."_

It couldn't be fixed. It never would be… Leo… Leo was…

Jolting to his feet, Don headed for the door, grabbing a blanket and the cup of tea Sensei had handed him after coming in from the barn a few minutes ago. "I'm gonna check on Mikey." And he abruptly left the cabin, leaving a worried Splinter to sit in the living room alone.

* * *

"Don't be such a baby, just let him look at it!"

Michelangelo. Splinter's sharp ears picked up his son's voice before even entering the lair.

"How many times I gotta say it? I'm fine!"

Raphael. His booming tone was recognizable even at such a distance.

"You could have muscular damage."

Donatello. They were all here. All safe.

"Just let me look and make sure the bullet—"

Splinter's heart spiked so hard and fast, he nearly fell to the floor winded. A bullet. They'd been shot. Again. His fear prevented him from being subtle. "My sons!" He burst through the doors to the medical room, eyes darting about until they found each child: Michelangelo stood near the cabinets full of bandages, frozen in a moment of handing several to his elder brother, Donatello, who was poised tall over Raphael, one hand on his shoulder, looking to be forcing—or attempting to force—him to sit in the stool. Raphael held a hand over his arm, and it wasn't until Donatello released his brother that Splinter noted the blood. Donatello's hand was covered in it.

Raphael had turned away to hide his left from view, but Splinter was already at his side.

"Raphael."

"He's okay, Sensei." Don was quick to explain. "A bullet graze on his upper left shoulder and a mild concussion. Nothing that can't be fixed, if he'd just let me take a look at it." Don glared at his older brother, directing the second half of that sentence right to his face.

Raph had suddenly gone silent, eyes glaring holes through the floor.

"Sit." Splinter's voice was gentle but commanding, and his son didn't put up a fight, slowly lowering himself onto the stool. His hand still covered the wound on his shoulder firmly. Splinter placed his palm on top of his son's, gently lifting it away to reveal the blood covered gash. It took every ounce of concentration to keep his fear from screeching across his face in that moment. It wasn't life threatening, it was a graze, but the fact that it had been so close…

He held his hand out to Donatello. "A cloth, please." His son dutifully handed him the wet rag he'd been trying to clean his brother's wound with. Splinter gently placed it atop the injury. It only took a minute to clean away all the blood, at which point Splinter had Donatello examine the gash once more, make sure there was no further damage.

All was well. His son would recover. Splinter stitched up the wound himself.

No one spoke. Not a word. Not even Michelangelo, who was normally quick to add noise where there was none. The walls of the lair were void of any sound. All that could be heard was the breathing patterns of the three turtles, and Splinter carefully listened to each one. Michelangelo breathed in hitches, as though he was holding his breath in fear and then releasing it as he convinced himself everything was alright. Donatello breathed deep and measured, clearly attempting to hold in a powerful bout of anger. And Raphael barely breathed at all. Hardly blinked. Just glared at the floor as though it was the source of all his problems in the world.

They were distant. Not just from him but from each other. Splinter had expected a level of isolation from his children after such a grave loss, but he'd hoped their grief would eventually draw them closer together. If they continued on this path…

As he finished the stitches, Splinter placed the needle on the metal tray beside him, examining his work to be sure it was enough, and closed his eyes, breathing in a deep, low breath. "My sons,"

"It's not what you think, Sensei!" Michelangelo, already presuming they were in trouble, tried to explain. "We had to go! They'd taken it and were displaying it like a—"

"You didn't have to go." Donatello's anger bubbled with every word he spoke. "And you certainly didn't have to go alone. You could have told us, we would have helped!"

"I told you, we didn't have time! We had to move quick or we would have lost our window of attack!" Or at least that was the excuse Mikey was sticking to so as not to throw Raph under the bus. Truth was, they probably could have called Don in. Or Splinter. But Raph was on the warpath, and Mikey had known there was no way he would've waited for backup.

Don seethed. "You blew up their base! You didn't just infiltrate without backup, you blew up the hornet's nest! Now they're going to come after us with a vengeance and we don't have the strength to fight them off if we're found."

"So we lay low. We stay down here until things cool off."

"That's what we _were_ doing before you two decided to go gallivanting off playing vigilante!" Donatello threw his arms in the air in angry exasperation. "UGH! You guys are infuriating! It's no wonder Leo—"

The minute the name left his lips, a grenade may as well have gone off. Everyone fell immediately silent when Raph's eyes snapped over to his brother's, piercing him with their rage.

"Enough." Splinter stood, blocking the brothers from glaring at one another. "What is done is done. We cannot change it now. I am simply grateful you all came home safe." His emphatic tone cooled the animosity of the room somewhat, his children's shoulders all suddenly slouching in guilt. He continued. "Raphael. Michelangelo." Only the younger met his gaze. "Help me understand. What had they taken?"

Mikey turned to his older brother in red, waiting for him to reply, but was once again met with silence.

Splinter was about to pry once more when Michelangelo turned to take something from the counter behind him. His demeanour changed immediately, taking on a sombre reverence as he held out the item in his hand. Splinter felt his fur stand on end.

Leonardo's missing katana.

* * *

If you'd had as many "almost" deaths as Leonardo, your family and friends would probably be skeptical at your funeral too. It's why Superman won't have anyone show up if he ever actually kicks the bucket one day.

 _End of Line_

 _-TRAaP_

P.S- Again, this chapter utilizes some weird jumps, so please let me know if it is confusing.


	9. Patience

Insomnia has returned, friends. Fortunately it's brought my muse with it, which means faster updates. Huzzah.

* * *

The stairs creaked beneath his feet, his heavy footsteps weighed down by the grief on his shoulders.

Four hours. And not a word. Not a single word.

It's not that he was expecting a long heart to heart, Casey knew better than that. He knew Raph, much like himself, would rather punch out his feelings than speak them. But when they were down—when the anger wouldn't settle and the violence wasn't enough—they'd always talk it out. Only with each other. Because they understood. They were of the same blood. The same mind. The same unquenchable rage.

Not this time.

And it wasn't about the words. Honestly, Casey wouldn't be surprised if Raph didn't speak at all for a good week. It's just how they dealt with pain. But Raph hadn't just been silent, he'd been absent. Entirely blank. Not angry, not vengeful, not… anything. Four hours Casey sat in that room, watching his friend glare at nothing, teeth chattering and body shivering, and not once did he look like he even knew where he was.

He was just… gone.

And Casey didn't know what else he could do.

A few years back, when he'd found out his dad was running with the Purple Dragons, he'd clammed up too. Went on numerous violent thug-bashing sprees that would put Chuck Norris to shame. And Raph had been there through all of it. Didn't ask questions, didn't try to talk it out or solve the problem, just let Casey blow off steam. And two days in, Casey finally spoke. Spilled his guts to his best friend as they sat on that roof and cleaned the blood from their weapons. And all Raph said was "You need a beer." and handed one over. And that was that.

Raph knew how to let Casey vent without feeling any… _less_ for it. And Casey gave the same comfort in return. He knew. 'Cause Raph would come to him anytime he was angry. Anytime he felt he'd failed or him and Leo were fighting…

Anytime.

But now…

Casey sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Maybe Raph just needed more time. Maybe he needed to be alone. Maybe he needed to go out and pummel a few (hundred) drug dealers and bank robbers to work through the mess going on inside. But whatever he needed, wherever Raph was… Casey couldn't reach him.

The thought dropped like a weight on his gut.

"Casey."

Blinking back to reality, Casey registered Splinter's voice and rubbed the back of his neck. "It ain't good, Splinter. He ain't…" Casey needed something to hit. "I got a blanket 'round him to help warm him up, but I don't think he'll be eating any time soon." Splinter's face was impassable, but Casey could tell that wasn't news he wanted to hear. "He needs space. Just… give him some room for a while. He'll come around." Eventually. Hopefully.

Without thinking about where he was going, Casey found himself in the kitchen, watching April wash dishes that looked like they were already clean. He came behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and breathed her in.

"Casey," She let him hold her for a moment, leaning into his body and putting down her dishcloth. After listening to several long, deep sighs, she didn't even need to ask. "That bad?"

Casey rested his temple on the crown of her head, practically burying his face in her hair. "Yeah."

"He's hurting. More than he ever has before." April could feel Casey's guilt radiating like a stoked fire. "He knows you're here. That's enough for now."

"No, it ain't." The tall vigilante stepped back, pulling a chair from the table and sitting down heavily. "It's times like this I'm supposed to know what to do. How to help. And I got nothin'." Another sigh blew past his lips as his fist curled and pounded the table. What he wouldn't give for something to throw right now. "He's… He's my best bud, Red. My brother. He's been there for me through everything: all the crap my dad threw at us, everything that happened with my sister, he even snuck into a busy hospital just to visit me when Shred-head shot me a few years back."

April nearly shuddered. "I remember…"

"He's been there for all of it. Fightin' with me and helping me sort through it all. And now he's the one who needs a friend, and I… I can't think of a single thing to do."

April sat in his lap, draping a comforting arm over his shoulder and letting him rest his head on her chest as she fiddled with his hair.

"He's gone red. Leo's gone. And I think he might have taken Raph with him."

April—not used to Casey being so open without physical violence coming first—kissed his forehead. "We'll get through this. All of us. I don't know how, but we will. Raph will come around eventually, and when he does, we'll be ready to help any way we can."

"Yeah, I guess." Casey turned his head into her neck and kissed it. "I just wish there was more we could do. I wish… I wish Leo…"

"I know." April sighed, holding him close. "Me too."

* * *

Taking the sword in his hands with a feather's touch, Splinter smoothed his hand down the length of the hilt, feeling every knick and scratch. His eyes closed of their own accord, attempting to hold in the memories threatening to send him into yet another fit of grief. He breathed deep.

"They had it on display in their base like a trophy." Mikey's quiet tone held no anger or resentment. Only innocent disbelief. "We tried to sneak it out, but one of the Dragons said something about Leo, and…" He glanced at Raph. "Things got out of hand."

Raph didn't say a word, boring a hole in the ground with his unblinking stare.

"I still don't understand how they got it. Did we leave it on the roof?" That night had become a haze, a thick fog that Don didn't dare enter for fear of what he'd be forced to see. Again.

Mikey felt the same way. "I can't remember."

All eyes landed on Raph. He was still the only one who knew what happened that night. And he still refused to talk about it.

"Raphael."

Splinter barely got the name out before his son stood and began storming towards the door.

But Don wasn't letting him get away that easily. He ran ahead, blocking the doorway. "Nuh-uh. You don't get to just walk away. Not again. Not after what you did tonight." He watched Raph's hands curl into fists as he seethed out a breath.

"Move."

"No." Don could see the veins bulge from his brother's wrists as his fingers curled tighter into his palm, but he was still unwilling to move. "You can't keep avoiding us like this. We deserve to know what happened that night. We deserve to know how our brother died!"

Raph went rigid. "Don't."

But Don wouldn't stop. "You owe us, Raph!"

Couldn't.

"Owe you!?"

"You owe us for running off tonight!"

"I don't owe you sh—!"

"You owe us for running off then, too!"

"Don, don't—!" But Mikey was too late.

"You owe us for getting our brother _killed_!"

The words rang out in the room like a cathedral bell, hanging in the air and daring someone else to speak. He couldn't take them back. He didn't mean them. Did he? He couldn't blame his brother for what happened… and yet every fibre of his being screamed he should. And Don was far too angry to listen to anything else.

Raphael hadn't moved. His hands were balled tight, his arms flexed and poised to attack, and his shoulders were practically hunched to his ears. But he didn't moved.

The silence only brought Don's rage to a tipping point. Why wasn't Raph saying anything!? Why didn't he just tell them what happened!? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn about every—

It was quick. Blink and you would have missed it. But for a moment Don saw it. The pain. The raw, gut-wrenching, nauseating, pain. It streaked through Raph's eyes like a flash of lightning, covered so quickly with anger that Don thought he must have been making it up.

But the way his own anger suddenly curled in on itself and died, he knew he hadn't. Raph really was feeling all that. Potently. Constantly.

Don had never felt regret come on so strongly.

"That is enough." Splinter finally interjected, his hope that his children would talk out their anger and restore peace being dashed with their last words. "My sons, we cannot go on like this. If we are to survive this loss, we must come together and help each other in our grief, not blame one another for it." He handed Michelangelo the katana and placed a paw on each of his elder son's shoulders. "Donatello,"

But Donnie was already trying to walk back his words. "I… Raph, I'm—"

An elbow to his side had Don faltering out of the doorway as Raph stormed passed him, stalking away to his room and slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the walls of the lair.

Splinter knew it unwise to follow. He would allow his son time to calm and focus on the wounds of his younger children. "Donatello,"

"I know... I shouldn't have…" Don blew out a remorseful sigh. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…" a sob caught in his throat and it was all he could do just to keep himself from collapsing into tears then and there. He cleared his throat. "I know it's not his fault. It's just… if he'd stayed with us, this never would have happened. Leo never would have had to go after him. He'd still be… He wouldn't have…" Don closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the emotions warring over his mind.

"My son," Both paws reached up to grasp his son's tall shoulders, attempting to comfort, not reprimand. "Anger is an unavoidable part of grief. But you cannot let it drive you away from those who love you."

"I…" Don stared out the door, guilt written all over his face. "…What do I do? How do I let it go?"

Splinter paused a moment before glancing at his youngest son, who remained silent in the corner with an innocent hurt on his face. Like a child caught between to warring parents. "Michelangelo. With me." He held out his hand, waited for it to be taken, then led his son to the door.

Don watched his father walk away forlornly. "Sensei?"

"Allow yourself to feel it, my son. We will be waiting when you are ready. As long as it takes." With that, he closed the door.

Donatello stared after them, unable to understand what his father was getting at. Feel what? What was he supposed to feel? He felt nothing. Nothing but anger and bitterness and…

He thought of Leo, his lifeless body lying prone on the roof, drenched in his own blood.

A whine bubbled at the back of his throat.

He thought of Raph, how inconsiderate and dangerous his actions were, and how he'd almost lost him tonight. How he might have just pushed him away for good.

Nausea stirred in his stomach.

He thought of Leo, the worry in his face when he'd found out Raph had left.

He held his breath to keep a sob in.

Leo, sitting by the desk, speaking words of encouragement to keep Don from giving up on his latest project.

Tears welled in his eyes.

 _Leo, slinging Don's arm around his shoulders and carrying him to safety during a mission gone wrong._

He couldn't…

 _Leo, knocked to the dojo floor by a new move Don had been practicing and smiling at how proud he was to see Don improving._

Keep them…

 _Leo, reading a book in his spot on the couch and smiling a greeting when Don walked in the room._

In.

A mournful cry ripped from hiss throat, bellowing through the room. He gripped his head, fell to his knees, and wept, all the pain and anger flowing out of him in droves.

Wept for the brother he'd lost.

Wept for the brother he'd hurt.

Wept for the family, the home, the life that would never be again.

* * *

"Raph…" Mikey uttered his brother's name brokenly, his heart heavy at what had happened. As he walked towards the living room, he couldn't help spy up to Raph's room. "Shouldn't we go talk to him, Sensei?"

"Give him time. Approaching your brother now would only drive him further away."

"But… it wasn't his fault. We don't blame him. He should know that…"

Splinter could feel the worry twisting knots in his son's stomach and draped an arm over his shoulders, prompting Mikey to wrap around his torso in a deep hug.

The young turtle sighed sadly, breathing in the smell of his father's robe. "He only got hurt tonight because he was protecting me. If anything, Don should be mad at me."

"Anger does not always follow logic, my son. Donatello's anger runs deeper than tonight's events."

Mikey nodded. He understood Don's anger… he'd felt it too when they were at the farmhouse. Felt a cruel resentment toward Raph that only faded because of a moment of pain he'd witnessed two months ago. But it was unfair. Just because Raph was the last one to see Leo alive, didn't mean he was to blame. Mikey couldn't help but wonder, if it'd been him with Leo on that roof—if he'd been the one to see it all happen—what would he be feeling now?

"Sensei… are we going to be okay?" What if Don never forgave Raph? What if they stayed mad at each other forever? What if Raph ran off again and Mikey wasn't able to—

A loud anguished cry suddenly echoed through the halls. Mikey turned toward the closed med-room door. His heart was practically lurching from his chest with the desire to run and hug his brother tight. "Sensei—"

"It's alright, my son." Splinter stroked Mikey's head in calming circles. "Your brother is finally allowing himself to feel his loss. We must give him time."

The continued bellow of agony sent shivers through Mikey's spine. "But shouldn't we be with him? Does he have to do it alone?"

"Sometimes that is the only way pain will appear. When we are alone and unhampered by others expectations." And as much as it pained him to be distant while hearing his son in such agony, he knew this was what Donatello needed most of all.

Permission to feel. To grieve. Away from the eyes of everyone he was so terrified of disappointing.

"But…"

"He knows we are here, Michelangelo. And when he is ready, he will seek comfort. Until then…"

"Patience and faith." Mikey finished. He'd heard the speech before. It was practically Sensei's motto. And while it didn't make hearing Don cry alone any less painful, it was something to hold onto that gave him purpose. He would wait. He would hope. And he'd be ready when his brother needed him. "…What about Raph?"

Splinter closed his eyes a moment, gathering his thoughts as he tried not to let the tormented wails from the other room cloud his mind. "Raphael needs time. He is not yet ready to face his pain."

Mikey didn't like that answer. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Pulling away slightly, Mikey found his father staring at him with a look that was almost… pleading. "Michelangelo," Even his tone had changed. Mikey swallowed thickly as he listened. "Your brother is going to avoid this pain as long as he can. And in doing so, he is going to try and push away those who remind him of it. The best thing you can do for him is remain steadfast. When the anger fades and the pain sets in—and it will eventually—he is going to need you to help keep him together. To remind him he is not alone." Splinter gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "Are you willing to do that?"

Splinter sounded almost… worried. Mikey blinked. He couldn't believe his father even needed to ask. "Hai, Sensei."

Anything for his brothers. Anything.

"I'll be here."

* * *

Gusting winds had picked up outside the barn, snaking through the cracks and slivers of the old wood. Every gust creaked the boards, raising an eerie chorus of ghostly groans. Mikey shivered through his blanket. "It's almost like a horror film. You know those ones where the teenagers get stuck in some creepy old mansion in the middle of nowhere and are picked off one-by-one by some crazy guy in a mask." Another squeal of creaking wood echoed through the barn, but Mikey kept his eyes forward. On the black bag. Waiting for a reply. "I know, I know, you hated those movies. You'd always point out the zillion ways they could have escaped if they'd just "analyzed the situation properly". Or list off the ninjitsu moves they could have used to defeat the enemy. Or how unrealistic the whole plot was in the first place. But you know what I think? I think you secretly enjoyed them." He cocked his brow up to a coy perch. "Oh yeah! I know you got really into them. You even got scared by one of them! It was on my birthday four years ago when you let me pick the movie after the party, and since I'd just turned twenty-one, I wanted to prove I was old enough to watch the scariest movie of them all—The Ring, obviously—and we all got so freaked out we couldn't watch movies for a week. I saw your face, you even closed your eyes at one point!" He paused, then nodded his head. "Yes you did." Paused again, nodding at the bag. "Yes you did, I saw! You started whispering things under your breath to remind yourself it wasn't real. AND you were the first one to suggest we not watch movies for a while." Mikey shook his head, a sliver of a smile splitting his lips. "That was so not for our own good, it was because you were scared." He waited. "Were too!"

A large gust of wind battered the barn, sending up another refrain of creaks and moans. Mikey still stared at the bag in front of him.

"That's not the only time we've seen him scared."

Mikey blinked, pulling himself from his own thoughts to look up and see Donatello finding a seat opposite him, also draped in a blanket and looking down at the black bag.

"You should drink that before it gets cold."

A blink of confusion had Don pointing to Mikey's right, where a steaming cup of tea sat perched beside him. When had Don put that there? Mikey nodded in acknowledgement, but didn't touch the cup. "What else have we seen that scared him?"

"Not movies, I meant real life. Leo got scared all the time."

"He did not. Name a time you actually saw him scared—I mean really scared—and it can't be when we were kids."

"When we first faced Shredder." Mikey nearly shuddered at the memory. "He didn't look it, but his hand trembled slightly until Sensei showed up. Or that time you nearly had your shell knocked off by Tiger Claw."

Mikey thought a moment. "What about that time you were turned in a giant rage monster? Or when Sensei was taken over by Rat King and attacked us."

"See, he's been scared a lot over the years."

"Yeah, but only for us." Mikey's eyes fell back to the bag. "When it came to us, he was a baby! He'd freak out any time we even came close to getting hurt on a mission. But he was never scared for himself. Or at least, never showed it…"

"He'd probably say something about a leader not being allowed to fear for himself."

"Probably."

The barn walls ached, moaning against the constant attacking wind. And yet Mikey couldn't hear any of it. Could only hear the rain. The rain that had been pouring on that roof, washing away Leo's blood. Washing away his life.

"I wonder… I wonder if he was scared on that roof…" He fidgeted with his blanket. "If he knew he was going to… going to…" A lump caught in his throat. "What if that was the last thing he felt?" His words were barely audible, whispered in fear of actually hearing an answer.

But Don heard them clear as an ear-piercing scream.

He waited for the nausea to pass, swallowing back bits of bile as he closed his eyes. "He wasn't alone. Raph was with him."

Mikey's eyes drooped as he held his blanket closer to himself, knuckles gripping it tight enough to pale. "Yeah…"

Raph was with him. Raph dug the grave.

It was all thanks to…

Raph.

* * *

I try to base most of the memories in this story on actual events from the comics and show (albeit loosely) and Casey being shot was a big event that happened right before Leo was kidnapped and brainwashed by Shredder to become a Foot soldier. It happens to be one of my favourite issues.

As always, comment if you find anything confusing, if you please.

And thank you to those who have commented/followed this story so far. Your support is greatly appreciated.

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_


	10. If Memory Severs

This one was probably the most difficult to write so far. Lot of emotions to sort through. Lot of moments to incorporate.

* * *

" _It was nothing." Leo swung his sword parrying his brother's downward attack and swiping his foot underneath to throw him off balance._

 _Raph jumped, attacking from the air. "Uh-huh."_

" _Honest." blade in front of him, Leo blocked the blow and locked weapons with his brother, both widening their stances to gain leverage as they pushed against each other's weight. "He just wanted to talk."_

" _Cut the bull, Leo. If it were nothing, you wouldn't be up at this hour."_

" _I'm always up early."_

" _Not this early."_

 _Leo's foot began to inch backward under his brother's force. "Maybe I just wanted some extra practice." He grunted as he tried to hold his ground._

 _Raph glared. "You wanna play it that way? Fine." In an instant, Raph spun out of the lock to stand behind his brother and rounded his foot on the floor to sweep under the leader's legs._

 _Leo was caught off guard. Raph could see him follow the move with his eyes, he knew what was about to happen, but couldn't move in time to stop it. His face was suddenly kissing the tatami mats, legs sprawled out and hands gripping his katana for dear life. He blinked up at the red bandana towering over him with a disapproving frown._

" _Only way I ever get that move past you is when you're distracted." The two locked stares, silently refusing to relent from their positions. Finally, Raph offered his brother a hand. "If you don't wanna talk about it, fine. But don't lie, Leo. I know you too well."_

" _You_ can _be very observant when you want to be." Leo conceded, taking the offered hand and glancing at his brother guiltily. "You're right. I'm sorry."_

 _Raph crossed his arms and grunted. "Yeah, yeah." He noticed Leo's eyes still looking… distant. "Hey… You sure you're okay? Did Sensei scold you or something?" Raph wasn't so good at the feelings stuff, but it was strange to see Leo worried and not be willing to talk about it._

 _Leo always told him everything._

" _No, it's…" Leo grabbed up his katana, sighing deeply. "I don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep. And I wouldn't object to a rematch, if you're up for it."_

 _Raph guffawed, fully aware his brother was changing the subject, but too tempted by the next fight to bring it up. "Fine by me. I never get tired of knocking you on your ass."_

 _Leo chuckled. "How do you know I wasn't taking it easy on you?"_

" _I told you." Raph twirled his sai with glee. "I know you too well."_

"That was the night before Sensei announced I was leader, wasn't it?" Leo watched the fight play out in front of him like a movie.

"Yeah."

"I remember. He'd talked to me about it before bed and it freaked me out so much I couldn't sleep." Leo glanced at his brother who glared at the floor.

"You could have told me."

"I was afraid you'd be angry."

"I was."

"I know." A long silence passed as the two sat in the dark. "Why did you want to be leader so badly? You saw what it did to me. It wasn't always a _fun_ job. And it was _never_ easy."

"It wasn't about the title." The sceptically cocked brow flung in his direction made Raph growl. "It wasn't _entirely_ about the title. It was…"

"That it made you feel unworthy?"

"A little… and—"

"That it made you feel like Sensei didn't love you as much?"

"…Yeah, maybe, but—"

"That it put me above you?"

"That it changed you. It changed us. It changed… everything." Leo's eyes softened as he watched Raph's muscles tense. "That night… that was the first time you wouldn't let me in. The first time you tried to "protect" me from something you thought would hurt. It was…"

"Our first step apart." Leo saw his brother nod solemnly before baring his teeth as he gripped his sai in each hand.

"I hated what being 'leader' turned you into. What it turned _us_ into. I hated that it made us… separate." He clenched his jaw tight, grinding his teeth. "And I hated you for letting it happen."

"Oh believe me, that part I knew." Noticing the flinch Raph tried to hide, Leo shook his head. "You still don't get it." Stepping around the punching bag, he walked toward his brother curled in the corner of the room. "It's never been that _you_ need _me_. I know you don't."

"What?" Raph looked up, confused, as Leo reached out and touched his shoulder.

"It's that I…"

Leo's face was so gentle. So soft. So… pale. There was blood pouring from his stomach. Down his cheeks. Raph's heart beat faster. "No…"

"It's that I…"

"No!"

"M'Sorry…"

" _LEO!"_

My ownvoice echoes around me, ringing numbly in my ears like a morning alarm clock. The fog around my mind begins to lift as the darkness fades, allowing light to fringe my vision. First thing that hits me is the smell of blood. Leo's blood. Feel it dripping down my hands, draining away with the rain. I can hear his last breath cough out beneath me. Beneath my hands on his stomach. My hands full of blood…

A pang in my arm brings me back to my senses, glancing at the bandages wrapped around my deltoid and shoulder. Thick, red, blood is seeping through. Must have pulled a stitch. Maybe it was my own injuries I smelled and not…

I give my head a firm shake, trying to spring lose the cobwebs. It's too dark to see much, but I know I'm in my room. I'd recognize that faint musky odour anywhere. And I know I'm alone. If any of the others were here, they'd be swarming me to fix up my arm or throw more questions at me.

Questions about that night. About what happened. About how Leo…

And I can't answer any of them. I can't. It's too… It's too…

I can't remember how I got here. Back home. Can't remember why I'd left in the first place. Can't remember…

This ain't the first time. Been happening on and off since that night. Since…

My mind's been scrambled. Lost in a rage so thick I can't breathe when I try to dig through it. I get bits and pieces every once in a while—Sensei askin' me what happened on the roof, April cryin' when she saw the body, Casey sittin' beside me at the farmhouse, —but nothin' solid. Nothin' I can hold onto for longer than a moment.

" _You ain't my leader. You ain't Leo!"_

Just pieces.

" _I said. Go Home."_

Raw and jagged.

" _GET DOWN!"_

Refusing to fit together.

The only firm memory I've had in the last three months was Don punching me out for wantin' to leave the lair. Solid blow. Didn't think the egg-head had it in him. Somehow it brought clarity. The throbbing pain was something to cling to, kept me grounded. But then he said something—" _I'm not losing another brother to"_ —and I lost my grip again. Lost it… can't remember…

My head is killing me.

I _do_ remember the anger. The rage. The burning hatred for those repulsive thugs that dared attack my family. That stole something from us. Something precious. Something irreplaceable. They deserve a fate worse than death. They deserve my fury. My violence. My madness.

They deserve to be punished. Punished by me. And it should be as painful as I want. As violent as I picture. As excruciating as I feel.

I don't want justice. I want revenge. I want brutality. Crave it. Demand it.

I want death.

"You shouldn't think like that."

I hear his voice clear as a bell. Not in my head, not someone else, just… there. But it's as familiar to me as my own reflection.

"A life for a life never got anyone anywhere. You know that."

As grating and condescending as it always was. Patronizing. Like he's talking down to a child.

"It was one of the first things Sensei taught us before he began our training. We don't use our skills for revenge or personal gain. Only to help others. Only to protect."

He always did think I was stupid.

"No I don't."

I nearly flinch at how suddenly his voice appears beside me. He did that on purpose. He's trying to freak me out. "Don't what?"

"Think you're stupid. Never have."

I can't help but snort my derision. "Uh huh. Sure."

I can't see him—he's not really there—but I know he's looking at me with those kind eyes. Kind and sad. Almost guilty.

" _Tell them…"_

 _No. No, we ain't doin' this now! "Leo—!"_

" _M'Sorry…"_

Enough. Enough! Make it "STOP!" I scream. I think. I don't know. Can't think straight. Can't focus. It's too much. Too much to—too much blood… Leo's—

— _pushing even harder on his stomach as blood squelches through my fingers. I think I'm gonna be sick._

My fists are clenched so tight, my knuckles pale and veins are popping all along my arm. It won't go away. Won't leave me alone! Just leave me—!

"Rapahel." Suddenly he's right in front of me, standing tall, looking down at me with his head cocked to the side like some malicious predator who finally corned his prey. I can see him… but he's not there. Is he?

My pulse quickens and I feel dread pumping through my veins like a potent drug. Alarm bells are going off and every nerve in my body is on edge. This is wrong. This is all wrong. I need to do something. I need to stop this!

But if it stops, he'll…

" _Don't you—"But his eyes are closed and his hand falls to the ground and I realize it wasn't his hand that was shaking, it was mine. The rain seems to freeze in it's downpour as suddenly everything goes completely silent. Still. Empty._

" _Leonardo!"_

Blood consumes the room in a thick fog, choking itself down my throat. I can taste it. Feel it squelching through my fingers. Not again. Not again! I jerk my eyes shut and reflexively grip my sai. "I said stop!"

" _Tell them..."_

"LEO!" My own howl bellows through the room like a freight train, a mixture of anger and sorrow too deep to name. My hands aren't enough to keep it from echoing in my ears, loud and clear and all consuming. I curl in on myself, trying to block it out. Block everything out.

 _I can't believe he's…_

The cry fades as suddenly as it began, but I wait a few moments—out of fear, out of dread, out of paranoia—before finally opening my eyes. And it's all gone. The blood, the noise, the screams, it's all disappeared as though it was never there.

As though _he_ was never…

Again and again and again. Can't keep my grip on what is. What was is too powerful. Can't stop it. Can't.

I shake my head again, throwing my hand against a wall to remind me what's real. At least this time I stayed in my room. Most times when I come to, I'm somewhere else: on a roof, in a warehouse, or pounding on a goon I can't remember chasin'. Last time it happened, Mikey was almost…

" _Take them! Before they escape!"_

" _Quick, Raph! The window!" Mikey cried, directing his brother to their nearest—and only—exit. If they were quick enough, they could get out before every gun in the place loaded and locked on them._

" _It was too easy."_

 _Mikey heard the Dragon behind them but didn't stop. Raph did._

" _After all these years, we were beginning to think you all were impossible to kill. But that guy went down without a fight at all. One bullet. Dead. Gotta admit, I was a bit disappointed."_

 _If Mikey could see Raph's muscles tensing and temper flaring, then the idiot Dragon who was goading him on definitely could. Mikey strode towards his brother, panic threatening to leak into his eyes at how many thugs were now heading toward them with guns cocked and ready. "Dude, forget him. We gotta go!"_

" _Will you all go down so easy, or was it just him? Was he just weak?"_

 _Raph's fingers curl around his sai. Murder dripped from his bandana to his hilt._

 _Mikey tried to intervene. "Raph, don't. We have to—"_

 _But the Dragon didn't get the hint. "I don't even remember his name. He wasn't anything special. Just another kill. Another notch in the belt. He'll be forgotten in a week."_

 _The Dragons moved closer and Mikey's heart pounded like thunder in his chest. "Raph!"_

" _He was nothing. He died as nothing. And so will—"_

 _Mikey blinked and suddenly the man was frozen, blood dripping from his lips… and a Sai through his chest. Did he just kill…?_

" _So will you." Raph pulled the man closer, anger spewing like venom as he brought their faces inches apart, his sai digging deeper into flesh. "All of you."_

" _Raph!" Grabbing his brother's arm, Mikey finally seemed to get his attention. "We're too late." They were surrounded by Dragons, thirty at least, and Mikey knew there was no way they could take them all. His grip tightened in fear. "What do we do?"_

 _But Raph wasn't there. His eyes were filled with nothing but malice. Loathing. He wouldn't stop glaring at the skewered body as it dripped blood down his hand._

 _One of the men smirked. "Looks like you're out of escapes." He raised his hand in the air. "FIRE!"_

 _Mikey tackled his brother behind the crates beside them, crawling to shelter behind one of the metal pillars. As he peaked his eyes open amidst the barrage of bullets, he eye caught sight of something lobbed into the air. Grenade. Perfect._

 _He leapt above the bombardment, swinging his nunchuck and knocking the explosive towards the center of the room where all the ammunition was in the midst of being unloaded from their crates. Throwing himself beside his brother, he closed his eyes._

 _The ensuing explosion encompassed half the warehouse. All the men were either consumed by the fire or blown back by the blast. Mikey peeked up to survey his work, nodding as he noted the fire providing good cover to allow them to run. He stood, moving towards the window to make sure it was still possible to get out._

That's how Mikey told it. But I only remember a few moments after… that's when the haze finally cleared and the red drained from my vision. I'd barely had time to compute that we weren't in the lair when I saw the grenade heading for Mikey.

Nearly got my baby brother killed, and I can't even remember why. Why did I go to that warehouse? Why in the hell did I bring Mikey?

What would I have done if he'd been…?

The thought brings a bout of nausea rumbling through my system. I swallow thickly trying to keep it all in.

Mikey could have been murdered. Because of me.

Like Leo.

Because of—

" _You owe us!"_

The moment is suddenly flashing before me like lightning. Piercing.

" _You owe us for running off tonight!"_

Blinding.

" _You owe us for running off then, too!"_

Excruciating.

" _You owe us for getting our brother_ _ **killed**_ _!"_

My gut churns again and I barely have a chance to grab the nearest bin before my stomach relieves itself of what little food and bile is left in it.

He's right. Don's right. He should blame me. They all should _hate_ me. They must. I would.

I do.

" _You still… don't get it."_

Not again, not again! That voice. That posture. That blue bandana, covered in blood. Because of his stupid protective instincts. Because he couldn't let me handle a fight on my own. Because… Because I…

" _That it's not—"_

He's in front of me staring me down with that stupid smile and those eyes… those sad, guilty eyes…

" _That I—"_

I growl at him, teeth bared and muscles tense. "Stop. You can't be here. You're can't. You're—"

" _S-Still here."_

He's kneels in front of me, eyes mere inches from mine. If I wasn't already against a wall, I'd have flinched back again. He's not there, but I can see him. So much blood… I can't stand the sight of it. The red taking over the blue.

But I can't look away. If I look away he'll disappear. He'll…

" _M'Sorry."_

I can't… I can't…

I can't breathe! My lungs burn, my chest heaves, and I feel like I'm being torn in two! It hurts so much I want to scream!

Suddenly he sits beside me, another memory following him into the room. He bumps my shoulder with his, just enough to let me know he's there, but not enough to invade my space. The panic subsides ever so slightly. "This was a good one. This was at the farmhouse after Shredder ambushed me. You helped me make my new swords, remember."

I pant, trying to grab my breath and keep it steady. "Yeah…" It's one of my most cherished memories. I never told him…

"You were so patient. So understanding. I didn't say it then, but I was really impressed with how well you handled everything."

"Yeah?" I feel his shoulder bump mine again, and the pain in my chest starts to dissolve.

The room is disappearing again as the memory takes over. Can't stop it. Can't… Hurts too much.

I close my eyes.

" _Lookin' good, Leo."_

" _Raph, I'm not in the mood!"_

* * *

Those last two lines are ripped straight from the TMNT 2003 episode "Monster Hunter" when Leo is recovering from his latest bout with Shredder.

The effect I was going for on this one was hard to achieve with words, because it was a lot of memories and reality bleeding into each other. As always, if anything is too confusing, please let me know.

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_


	11. The Calm Before

I've had this one in bits and pieces for a few months now, and I finally found how to sew it together.

A large thank you to those who are still following this story. I can't reply to all of you (because FF doesn't allow me to reply to "guest" comments) but I appreciate all your words of encouragement and excitement. Especially after such long lapses between chapters.

* * *

" _This is a bad idea."_

 _Leo handed Don his shell-cell to force eye contact. "It's not that big a deal."_

" _It is too, and you know it. I've never done anything like this before. I've never had to lead the whole team into a big mission like this!"_

" _You've led plenty of missions over the years."_

" _Well this one's different."_

" _How so? It's no more difficult than any other—"_

" _Because you're not going to be there!" Don turned away from his brother, solidly placing his shell between his solemn face and Leo's wide eyes. "Anytime I've 'led' a mission, it's been in the middle of one you already started, and you were right there the whole time, ready to take over if anything went wrong. Which it did. Almost every time."_

" _Donnie…"_

" _Look, I appreciate your faith in me, but I'm just not ready for this. I know my strengths, and I'm not meant to be the one calling the shots. It should be—"_

" _Who? Who should it be if not you? Raph?"_

" _Well why not? He's done it without you before. And he can be pretty intuitive, when he keeps a cool head long enough to actually think."_

" _It's not that I don't trust him to lead, Don, it's that…" A rough sigh blew from Leo's nose. "He's been… angry, lately. Distant. More so than usual. I don't know what's clouding his head, but I doubt forcing more responsibility on his shoulders will help."_

" _And you think having me order him around is going to make anything better?"_

" _I think…" He paused a moment, likely trying to find the right words. "I think, for this mission, you're the best choice. If I could be out there with you, I would, but…" Don turned enough to see his brother glare down at the bandages around his torso. "My doctor tells me it's too soon to be moving around. Apparently a bullet to the chest requires rest in order to heal. Go figure."_

" _Great. The first time you actually listen to my advice, and it ends up biting me in the shell." That got a small chuckle from the elder, which actually managed to relax Don's shoulders ever-so-slightly. "I just… what if I mess it up? What if something goes wrong? What if… what if I get someone hurt?"_

 _He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Leo, an unfaltering and trusting smile splitting his lips. "Then you'll fix it. Like you always do."_

 _Don breathed in deep. He hated every bit of this, but he was running out of arguments to throw at his brother. He smiled shakily. "Are we sure there's no one else? What about Sensei? Or Leatherhead? He's a brilliant guy, probably great with strategy."_

" _Mikey offered to take over if you refused."_

 _Don groaned. "Fine, fine. I'm going. But one of these days I'm going to call your bluff and actually let Mikey lead a mission."_

" _I'll get the fall-out bunker ready."_

 _Don snorted a laugh and turned to head off to his lab and prepare for the duty ahead of him._

" _Donnie."_

" _I know, I know! I'll pack extra snacks for Mikey." But when Leo didn't return his humour, Don turned. "What?"_

" _I wanted… I wanted to say… Thank you. For saving my life."_

 _He watched Leo glance at the bandages with distain once more, and realized how hard this must be for him… having to stay home with such an important mission to attend to. Knowing Leo, he'd probably pace the lair the whole night till they got back. Don smiled at the thought. "Just don't make me do it again, okay? It wasn't…" He sighed once more, not wanting to think about the terror of four nights ago. But the trauma forced itself before his eyes like a macabre puppet show:_

 _The bullet had hit Leo so close to the heart, it was a miracle he'd managed to live through it in the first place, let alone the operation. And that was as close to open-heart surgery as Don ever wanted to get. His hands hadn't stopped shaking till just this morning._

 _He'd thought for sure Leo was going to die._

 _He'd sat by his brother's bedside for hours before he woke up, trying to imagine how they would cope in a world without Leo._

 _The thought of it was too much. He'd cried. Held Leo's hand and wept like a frightened child. It had taken several minutes for him to calm down enough to realize he wasn't alone: Mikey had hugged him across his shoulder, Raph had clamped an arm around his shell, and Sensei kneeled by his side, gently reminding him to breathe when his sobs made him forget._

 _It had been so close. Far too close._

 _Don's hands started trembling again. He shook his head to rid himself of the memories. The fear. Suddenly unable to stop himself, he turned on his heels, marched back to his brother, and grabbed him into a tight, unrelenting, hug. "I'm glad you're okay."_

 _It took a moment, but Leo leaned into it, returning the embrace with an emphatic sigh. "Me too, Don."_

 _Me too._

The echo of his brother's voice began to fade, drawing Don's brows together in a tight knit as he tried to understand. His eyes fluttered slowly open, blinking in the darkness as he found his bearings. He was on the floor… in the med bay? He must have fallen asleep. First time in days. Someone had placed a pillow under his head and covered him in a blanket. "Leo?" The name lit a fire in his chest that his tired mind wasn't able to make sense of.

What a dream… the worst nightmare Don had experienced since he was a kid. He'd been startled by night visions of his brothers dying before, but never like this. Never this intense. Almost real.

Sitting up slowly, Don felt his head spinning already. And his eyes stung. A lot. "Leo?" He called, glancing around the room. If he slept here because he was sick, Leo was sure to be close by. He hovered like a nurse-maid when they got sick. "Leo, can you get the lights?" Again. There it was again. The hollow ache in his chest when he said his brother's name. Why? What could…

What if it wasn't a—

" _He's been shot."_

No…

" _Where else could we take him? There aren't any parks secluded enough that we could bury him around here."_

Oh please, god, no…

" _We stay hidden, and we stay safe. And I don't care how pissed off you are, I'm not losing another brother to_ your temper!"

It was real. Leo was…

" _Why didn't you just listen for once!? Why didn't you follow orders!? If you hadn't left, he might still be—"_

And Raph…

" _You owe us for getting our brother_ killed! _"_

Guilt boiled in Don's stomach like a volcano waiting to erupt. He'd really said those things. Felt them. _Meant_ them. How could he… to his own brother? Raph was in as much pain as the rest of them, Don should be more understanding of that. And yet… despite all the logic, he still couldn't dissolve the anger bubbling under his skin. He couldn't forgive Raph. He wanted to—he didn't want to blame his brother in the first place—but the anger…

He felt like he was going to hurl.

Remembering his weeping session before passing out, Don understood why his eyes were sore and his head throbbed. He hadn't cried like that since he was eighteen years old and they all thought they'd lost Mikey to a dimensional tear after a mission with Renet. He was returned two weeks later, but those fourteen days had been pure hell.

Like this was now.

Another chill ran up his spine as Don shook the memory out. He was tired of memories. Time to get back in the here and now. The present.

The present where Leo was dead. Where Don was lost. Where Raph was closing himself off from his family because Don was pushing him away.

He breathed deeply. He should apologize. To Raph and to Mikey. He should make this right. He was still angry—seething—but it wasn't fair to his brothers. It wasn't their fault. The Dragons killed Leo, not Raph. Why Don was having such a hard time convincing himself of that, he couldn't say, but he would repeat it until he believed it.

Standing on shaky legs, Don headed for the door and immediately regretted it. The light from the living room was too aggressive for hiss sensitive head at the moment, and a dull throbbing began pounding at the back of his skull.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty."

The voice was far too chipper for Don's mood right now, but he was still happy to hear it. He turned to Mikey—a slight smile adorning his face, which hadn't been there in a long time—and attempted a wave. "How long was I out?"

"A full twenty-four hours, dude, and I still don't think it was enough."

Don tried to digest that without getting flustered. A whole day? He'd been out a whole day? Last time he slept that long was after being mutated by Bishop's virus. Leo had been adamant that he stay in bed.

" _I should have made you rest when you were sick. I'm not making that mistake again."_

He shook the voice from his head, offering a small smile to the worried look on Mikey's face. "Where's Sensei?" Mikey only pointed towards the dojo. Don gulped, still unwilling to even look in that direction. "Meditating?"

The younger nodded. "He sat outside your door for a few hours, then moved to Raph's. Been in the dojo since morning." He shrugged hesitantly. "His face when we got home… I think we really freaked him out. We shouldn't have left without telling him."

Don sighed, feeling his guilt volcano rumble "Yeah."

"…Or you." Mikey's eyes suddenly found the floor as he rubbed his arm. "I'm really sorry, Don. We shouldn't have—we didn't mean to—it was just…" He paused, glancing up at his brother with remorse plastered all over his face. "I'm sorry."

Don watched his brother as he bore his shame on his sleeve, his guilt boiling hotter and hotter. He wanted to tell Mikey it wasn't his fault. He wanted to say his own apology. He wanted to make the guilt disappear from both their shoulders. But the words just wouldn't come. "Mikey…"

"You were right to be angry. …Leo would've—"

The minute their deceased brother's name left Mikey's lips, Don's arms shot around his shell, pulling him into a deep hug that even he hadn't expected. None of the words that flooded his mind to say actually made it out of his mouth. Not the explanation that he wasn't angry but terrified, not the apology for shouting when he shouldn't have, nor the adoration he felt at seeing his brother squaring his shoulders and trying to do what he could to help his family as it fell apart. None of it. The only utterance that left his lips slipped out as he clung tight to his baby brother and held on for dear life. "You're here. You're alive. That's all that matters to me."

Mikey didn't miss a beat. The moment he heard Don's words—felt the desperation in them—he returned the hug with fervour.

Neither turtle noticed as their embrace lasted several minutes, bringing much needed comfort to both. With one final squeeze, Don released his brother, taking a moment to breath back the emotions sweeping through. No time for tears. Not now.

"I… I need to talk to Raph."

"Your brother has yet to come out of his room." Both turtles turned to see Splinter enter the room, an unusual heaviness to his steps. He walked up to Donatello with a gentle smile and a comforting touch to his shoulder. "How are you feeling, my son?"

"Better." Don's head was still throbbing and his eyes were more sore than the time he'd spent two full days in front of his computer with no sleep, but he felt… lighter. Less clouded. "Thank you, Sensei. I'm sorry I—"

But Splinter raised his hand and stopped the apology before it was voiced. "Anger is a necessary part of grief, my son. I am overjoyed you have found your way through it." He cupped Donatello's chin in his paw. "It is good to see the light in your eyes again."

Don smiled, content to share this moment of peace with his father and brother, until guilt raised it's voice once more. "I only got through it because I took it out on all of you. …Raph especially." He pulled his eyes from the floor, not allowing his own self-pity to surface again. "Where is he?"

The other two shared a worried stare.

"He's still in his room." Mikey sighed worriedly. "Hasn't moved from there since last night."

Don's eyes followed to his brother's bedroom door, but his feet remained planted where they were. What was he going to do? What could he say? He'd practically accused Raph of murdering their brother… there was no walking back from that. His mind was reeling, fighting for any idea that he didn't immediately deem as trivial and ill-advised, when his father's calm voice broke his train of thought.

"Your brother is suffering as much as any of us. He needs to know he is not alone."

"I know… but how do I—"

"Be open with him, my son. Tell him what you are feeling."

Don sighed. Somehow he didn't think explaining how his anger stemmed from the gaping maw of grief continuously attempting to suffocate him at every turn, and that he didn't actually mean what he said—he didn't. He couldn't—would make his brother feel any better. But then, what else was there for him to say? He sucked in a thick, protracted, and hesitant breath, waiting for some sort of divine intervention to help him in that moment. None came.

"Ok." He conceded, forcing his feet to move towards the stairs. Mikey and Splinter waited below, watching as Don walked to the door, offering their support with kind smiles anytime he glanced back with hesitancy.

Don stood in front of the door for a good long minute, staring at the aged metal. He noted many scrapes and scars near the door handle, clearly left by being shut too forcefully. Raph and his temper… It drove Leo crazy when Raph slammed the—

Don sighed deeply.

"Raph?" His voice croaked out as he rapped on the door lightly. "Raph, it's Don." Not that his brother wouldn't recognize his voice, but he felt the need to say it. "…We need to talk." He waited, listening patiently for any sign of movement on the other side. Nothing. Clearing the doubt from his voice, Don tried again, stronger in conviction. "Raph, open up. I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but I—" Fear of his brother's wrath suddenly halted his words, but Don was quick to push past. "Please… Please let me in." Still no sign of movement. Not even a grunt of disapproval. "Raph?" He rapped on the door harder. Perhaps more force was needed. "You know I can pick the lock if I have to. Open the door." But it remained closed, with nothing but silence behind it.

Something was wrong. It came out of nowhere and as suddenly as a gust of wind, but the dread pumping through Don's veins and sending a chill down his shell wasn't a figment of his imagination. And he didn't dare ignore it.

"Raph?" He rattled the doorknob, noting that it wasn't locked, but merely stuck. He jiggled to and fro, trying to release it from whatever held it.

"Dude," Mikey came up the stairs, suddenly worried. "He could be asleep! You don't want to wake the beast if he's—"

"He's not asleep. We have to get in. Help me—" The door jarred suddenly, opening and taking Don with it as it screeched into the room. The tall turtle righted himself, blinking in the darkness and waiting for his eyes to adjust as Mikey and Splinter joined him. "Raph?"

But once again, the room remained completely silent. Still.

Alarm bells shrieked in Don's head. This was wrong. This was all wrong. "I don't see him."

"I don't see anything." Mikey whined, searching for the light on the wall. He found it quickly and flicked it on, but the sight that greeted him was anything but comforting. "Whoa…" Weights lay strewn about the floor like bodies, the bed and hammock both looked as though they hadn't been touched in months, and cracks and holes littered the walls, most in the shape of Raph's fist. Several stained with blood. "Bro…"

"Raphael." Splinter's hair was beginning to stand on end, even more so when he found vomit in the waste bin. Too long… he'd waited too long!

Don felt something under his feet and stopped to take a look; a photo. A picture of their family that April had taken last Christmas. But there was a sai shaped hole drilled through one face. Raph's face.

And just like that, the light bulb flicked on. Something so obvious that Don couldn't believe it took him this long to understand. So obvious… if he'd only bothered to pay attention.

Self-loathing. The room was dripping with it.

"Maybe's hiding out in the garage? Slipped out to work on his bike or something?" Mikey offered meekly, unable to take his eyes off the blood on the walls.

But Don knew for a fact Raph hadn't gone near his bike since Leo... Heart racing in his chest—with guilt, with fear, with the sudden panic that Raph wasn't where he should be—Don scoured the room with his eyes, searching for any sign of his brother. But it was what he didn't see that caught his attention. "…I don't think he's hiding."

Raph's sai. His sai weren't in the room. The weapons that never left his side weren't in the room.

Don's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Raph's gone."

* * *

…I still have troubles writing for Donatello. And yes, that was a flashback inside a flashback. I may have gone overboard with the memory inserts...

Comments, critiques, corrections, always welcome.

 _End of Line._

 _-TRAaP_


End file.
